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Margaret's Travels 



LETTERS FROM MARGARET LEE 

OF NEW YORK 

TO FLORENCE JACKSON 

OF CHICAGO 



BY 

ANTHONY YORKE 



P. J. KENEDY & SONS 

44 BARCLAY STREET 

NEW YORK 



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Copyright, 1912, 
By P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 



©CU330546 
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Dedicated to 

The National Order of the Daughters 
of Isabella 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Bon Voyage ^ 

Aboard the Good Ship Cedric 10 

Mal de Mer ss 15 

The Emerald Isle 19 

Blarney Castle 24 

Glengariff 29 

Over the Mountains 32 

Lakes of Killarney 35 

Dublin 40 

Glendalough ^ 5 

The North of Ireland 52 

London ' 61 

The Tower 69 

Up the Thames 78 

Literary Shrines 83 

Some English Peculiarities , 89 

La Ville-Lumiere 95 

Boulevards > 1°^ 

The Louvre 105 

The Opera House » 110 

Quartier Latin i 116 

eontainebleau 122 

Lucerne - 125 

Como 133 

o 
O 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Milan 141 

Venice 146 

The Lagoon and the Grand Canal . . 154 

Florence 159 

The Pitti Palace 165 

St. Peter's a® :o> . . 168 

Capitoline and Roman Forum 173 

The Coliseum 179 

The Catacombs 184 

The Palatine Hill and the Baths of 

Caracalla 189 

Some Objects of Interest , 193 

Audience with the Holy Father ... 198 

An Evening Drive 204 

Naples 208 

Vesuvius 214 

Blue Grotto 221 

Pisa 227 

"La Superba" 233 

The Riviera 235 

Marseilles 241 

Paris 243 

Versailles 246 

Au Revoir 252 

Home Again 254 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



BON VOYAGE. 

No doubt you will be greatly surprised on 
opening this letter to learn that I am on my way 
to Europe. Perhaps you will think that I 
should have let you know of my intended trip. 
The fact is it came so unexpectedly that I can 
hardly believe it is a reality. I am almost dazed 
by the suddenness of it. When I explain to 
you the circumstances, you will understand why 
I could not write you sooner. 

You know, of course, that for some time past 
my sister Alice has been desirous of becoming 
a nun. While my mother is agreeable, my 
father bitterly opposes this step. Alice has 
called at the convent many times to talk over 
the matter with the sisters, and they tell her to 
be patient and to pray, and that JLe Bon Dieu 
will bring everything out all right. Alice has 
prayed and held many consultations with my 

7 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

father, but he is firmly set against her entering 
a religious life. 

Alice is very much in earnest and very spirit- 
ual. The other day I chanced upon a little book 
she was reading, and I saw a passage under- 
lined, which said, " Let us mortify our bodies 
so that when we come to die there will be less 
of them to die." Isn't that a dreadful thought? 
I never think things like that. The underlining 
of the words worried me, so I went to the con- 
vent and had a talk with the Mother Superior. 
I showed her the book. She smiled and said 
that the having of such ideas was a sign of a 
religious vocation. She went on to say that she 
had them herself when she was a novice, and 
she was ashamed now after thirty years in the 
Community that her health was so good. "You 
need not worry about your sister," she said. "If 
she joins our order we will take the best care 
of her, and as she will be under a vow of obe- 
dience, she will have to do as her superiors say." 
That rather reassured me. I am glad that my 
father did not see that book. I have been tak- 
ing the best care of myself, as I want to gain 
a little flesh, and behold, my sister is reading 
books commending the opposite, so as to be bet- 
ter prepared for heaven. 

Father's attitude has caused Alice great 

8 



BON VOYAGE 



worry. A few evenings ago they had a seri- 
ous talk on the subject, and Alice broke down. 
He became alarmed at her nervous condition, 
and insisted on her taking a rest. It was either 
a sanitarium or Europe, and Europe won out. 
You may imagine how busy we have been, hav- 
ing but forty-eight hours to get ready for our 
first trip abroad. 

English is spoken almost everywhere in Eu- 
rope I understand, though it is a great advan- 
tage to know French. Alas! my knowledge of 
Ollendorf is limited. I think I remember the 
French of " Is the shoemaker ill? No, but the 
wife of the butcher has a pain in her foot." 

My father has provided us with a letter of 
credit, and we are taking some American gold, 
which circulates everywhere. We have bought 
two heavy steamer rugs and arranged for steam- 
er-chairs during the trip. 

I will send this letter ashore to be mailed, and 
it will, no doubt, reach you in Chicago to-mor- 
row evening. I regret very much that you are 
not with us. 



9 



ABOARD THE GOOD SHIP CEDRIC. 

This is the third day out. Alice has recu- 
perated wonderfully and seems reconciled to 
her banishment. We took the southern course 
to avoid icebergs, so I am informed, and the 
weather has been delightful — perhaps a trifle 
too warm. 

We felt rather lonesome the morning we 
sailed. Mother wept as she bade us good-by, 
and so did we, and I could see tears glistening 
in my father's eyes. Alice bore up bravely, but 
it must have been a great trial to her to be or- 
dered away under the circumstances. 

I need not dwell upon the sights of the van- 
ishing city — its skyscrapers, its busy rivers, its 
immense bridges and the lady who holds the 
torch of Liberty aloft. 

The first incident of importance was the 
dropping of the pilot. The pilot carries back 
with him to New York the letters and postal 
cards that the passengers have written on their 
way down the bay. The pilot leaves the steamer 
by means of a rope ladder, down which he 
climbs into a small boat which conveys him to 

10 



ABOARD THE GOOD SHIP CEDRIC 

the pilot boat awaiting him. It is quite an in- 
teresting sight, and reminded me very forcibly 
of the famous picture by Bernard Partridge 
published in the London "Punch" some years 
ago, when Emperor William cashiered the 
great Bismarck. The picture was entitled, 
"Dropping the Pilot," and showed Bismarck 
going down the ladder, with the German Em- 
peror leaning over the rail of the vessel watch- 
ing him. 

The sea, as I said, has been delightful. 
Warm, caressing winds have blown over it for 
several days. 

Yesterday one of the sailors died. He was 
buried just before midnight. We watched his 
body being consigned to the deep. The cap- 
tain had chosen a late hour at night when there 
would be few passengers about, for the reason, 
I believe, that a daytime burial would have had 
a saddening effect upon them. 

Last evening we passed a freighter of the 
WTiite Star Line, and this caused a little excite- 
ment. The two vessels were wig-wagging for 
some time, and finally, when they came abreast, 
each one shot off fireworks, one piece in the 
shape of a big white star being especially ef- 
fective. 

Every morning, owing to the system of wire- 
11 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

less telegraphy on board, we are informed of 
the different vessels we passed the day previous. 
We seldom see any of these boats, as they are 
fifty or a hundred miles away, but it sort of 
keeps one in touch with things. 

Did you notice that word, "wig-wagging?" 
It shows you, no doubt, that I have some nau- 
tical knowledge. It is wonderful how much of 
this is floating about. Everybody seems to 
know about longitudes and latitudes, the ton- 
nage of a vessel, how she compares with other 
ocean liners, what flag-signaling indicates, and 
many other things. One of the men connected 
with the steamer turned to me yesterday, after 
listening to the opinion of a land-lubber, and 
said quietly, "It is wonderful what these people 
don't know about a ship." I always learn some- 
thing about a vessel when I am on it a few days, 
but I invariably forget all that I have learned 
by the time I board another one. If I only 
knew as much at the beginning of a sea journey 
as I do at the end, I think I would make a bril- 
liant conversationalist in nautical affairs, but, 
unfortunately, by the time I have picked up 
a decent supply of sea lore everybody else knows 
just as much, if not more. For this reason I 
seldom venture an opinion. 

12 



ABOARD THE GOOD SHIP CEDRIC 

The time on board ship passes quickly 
enough. I rise about seven o'clock, walk the 
deck twenty minutes, and then go down to a 
good breakfast. Another walk on the deck 
after breakfast, then a couple of games of 
shuffle-board, which is not played on a shuffle- 
board with small iron weights, but on the ship's 
deck. 

About ten o'clock hot bouillon and crackers 
are served. The passengers lie off in their 
steamer-chairs like invalids at a sanitarium and 
consume the bouillon and crackers which the 
ship's steward brings to them. 

The next event is dinner, and, as the sea has 
been quiet during the trip, the dining-room 
has been crowded. After dinner one can walk, 
or get a book out of the library and pass the 
time reading. I found a book on the Renais- 
sance, and I have enjoyed it very much in an- 
ticipation of all the artistic things I am going 
to see when I get into France and Italy. 

About four o'clock the steward again comes 
around with tea and cake for the delicate crea- 
tures that are lolling about on the steamer- 
chairs and gazing by the hour on the trackless 
waste of waters or the empyrean blue above. 

The nights at sea have been beautiful. 
13 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

There are so many stars. No more, I suppose, 
that there are on land, but there seem to be. 
Surely, the heavens tell of the glory of God. 

"Look how the floor of Heaven is thick in- 
laid with patines of bright gold," as Shake- 
speare says. 

We have become acquainted with a Mrs. 
Lawlor and her son Jack. They come from San 
Francisco. Mrs. Lawlor's husband died about 
a year ago, and, as she has been rather broken 
down in health, she determined to take a trip 
to Europe. As she had no definite trip in mind, 
we have agreed to keep together. My father 
told me to remain away two months, and Mrs. 
Lawlor says that is about as long as she cares 
to travel. Mrs. Lawlor is a young-looking 
woman, though her hair is quite white. Her 
manner is soothing and her voice low and sweet. 
Her son is a big, muscular young man, whose 
only care in life seems to be his mother. 



14. 



MAL DE MER 

I feel that I must write you another letter, 
so you are fated to receive two from me in the 
same mail. 

I pride myself on being a pretty good sailor. 
In several coastwise trips that I have made, I 
did not suffer from mal de mer when many an- 
other stout heart gave way, but I went down 
miserably this time. The sea had been so quiet 
every day we were all sure that the danger 
of sea-sickness that we had anticipated was 
passed, but the sea is a fitful creature and a 
storm may suddenly arise on its calm waters. 

We were sitting on deck yesterday morning, 
chatting merrily, when the wind began to freshen 
and in a few minutes a violent storm swept 
down upon us. The waves increased in fury, 
the sky became as dark as Erebus, and soon our 
steamer was plunging into the depths and again 
pitching its bow heavenwards. You can im- 
agine the sensation produced by these move- 
ments. Then occasionally the vessel would roll 
from side to side. That was a change from the 
plunging motion, but I don't know that it was 
a welcome one. 

15 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

Mrs. Lawlor was the first one to feel uncom- 
fortable. Alice and I accompanied her to her 
state-room. Now and then a wave would sweep 
over the ship, and the water flowing along the 
passageways looked dangerous and rather 
frightened me. Alice remained with Mrs. Law- 
lor and I came up to join Jack. 

In the meantime the captain had given orders 
that no one should be allowed to go on deck, as 
there was some danger of being swept over- 
board. The storm increased in fury every mo- 
ment, and I began to dread that the boat would 
sink. Between nervousness and the pitching of 
the steamer, I soon collapsed. Jack quickly got 
Alice, and they brought me safely below. For 
the rest of the day and all the night I was mis- 
erably ill. Believe me, sea-sickness is, to say 
the least, a very unpleasant sensation. If one 
only got sick, and then better, it would not be 
so bad, but to lie for hours in a berth listening 
to a fog-horn blowing every minute, and every 
minute feeling more wretched, is an experience 
I could very well do without. Many people say 
sea-sickness is a good thing, but I do not believe 
it. I think it is rather useless. 

Alice is a trump, if one may use such an in- 
decorous expression in describing a future nun. 
She attended to Mrs. Lawlor and myself unre- 

16 



MAL DE MER 



mittingly, and if she was affected by the storm, 
she showed no signs of it. Perhaps she was 
practicing self-abnegation. I told her there 
ought to be an order of nuns to take care of sea- 
sick people, and that she should be the Mother 
Superior. 

Early this morning the storm ceased and the 
sea began to behave itself. We are all on deck 
again, where I am writing this letter with Jack's 
fountain pen. I am beginning to feel raven- 
ously hungry, so, perhaps, after all, there is 
something to be said in favor of sea-sickness; 
sweet is pleasure after pain. 

Alice and Jack did not miss a meal during 
the storm, though both agreed that they felt a 
little uneasy. Alice told me that it was neces- 
sary to place brass guards on the dining-room 
table to keep the dishes from being thrown off. 

I am disappointed because we have not seen 
any whales or icebergs. There have been a 
number of porpoises in sight, but one can see 
them at Rockaway. 

I gave Jack a surprise to-day. A meeting 
was held in the dining-room to take some action 
relative to the making up of a purse to be given 
to the wife of the poor sailor who died and was 
buried at sea. 

Several gentlemen spoke in favor of it and 
17 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

urged all to give to so worthy an object. The 
chairman then said he would like to hear from 
some one of the ladies on the subject. I rose 
at the invitation and gave my views in the mat- 
ter, saying that I thought it was a worthy act 
of charity, and no doubt every one could give 
something, etc. If I may be permitted to say 
so, it is no trouble for me to speak in public. 
The practice I have had as Grand Regent of a 
Court of the "Daughters of Isabella" has fitted 
me to say a few words extemporaneously on any 
subject that happens to be on the tapis. While 
I was speaking, I chanced to catch sight of 
Jack's face and saw that it was very pale. He 
explained to me afterwards that my rising to 
speak surprised him, and then he got into a 
"blue funk," as he described it, lest I would fail. 
He has referred several times to-day to his sur- 
prise at my facility in public speaking. I as- 
sured him that all women could talk, but that 
some get more of a chance to practice the gift 
than others. 



18 



THE EMERALD ISLE* 

Yesterday, at about four o'clock in the after- 
noon, we sighted land. At first three rocks be- 
came visible, which are known as the "Cow, 
Bull and Calf," and afterwards the Kerry 
coast came into view, and we got our first 
glimpse of the "Emerald Isle." We could see 
the farmers at work in the fields, and a little 
later we watched the "lowing herds wind slowly 
o'er the lea." The steamer deposited us and 
our trunks on board a tender about nine 
o'clock in a driving rain storm. Queenstown, 
as you are aware, has a beautiful harbor. Not- 
withstanding the rain, it was really a fine sight 
as we sailed along. The town is situated on a 
cliff, and, when the houses are lighted up at 
night, presents quite a fairy scene. 

Queenstown is famous for one thing espe- 
cially, that is, from its port, for the last sixty 
years, more than half the population of Ireland 
has sailed away to other lands. As a little book 
I have in my possession tells me, it has witnessed 
the tears of Ireland, of the lonely, aged parents 
parting from their children, of friend clasping 

19 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



the hand of friend for the last time, of brothers 
and sisters parting from brothers and sisters, 
and all from the land that an Irishman loves 
as he loves his own life. It has been called truly 
the torn artery from which the country's best 
blood drains away year after year. 

After quite a long sail, we arrived at the cus- 
tom-house, where we remained until daylight. If 
there is anything slower than the custom-house 
in Queenstown I have yet to meet it. Perhaps 
visitors to the United States feel the same way 
about ours. It didn't take them long to exam- 
ine the trunks, once they got them, but it took 
all night to get the trunks off the tender. It 
was daybreak when we sauntered out into the 
streets of the city, and it was still raining. An- 
other steamer had arrived a few hours before 
ours, and so the few small hotels were crowded. 
We managed to get breakfast, and then con- 
cluded to take the first train to Cork. 

The principal thing of interest in Queenstown 
is the Cathedral of St. Colman. Of course, it 
was not open so early in the morning, so we did 
not get a view of its interior. The situation is 
fine, and it dominates the town. 

Queenstown itself was formerly called the 
"Cove of Cork," but when Queen Victoria 
visited it in 1849, it received its present name. 

20 



THE EMERALD ISLE 



Charles Wolfe, the author of "The Burial of 
Sir John Moore," was buried at Queenstown. 

I was sorry that we could not linger longer 
here, but, as we had been up all night, it was 
necessary to find lodgings. Mr. Lawlor was in- 
formed that the first train for Cork would leave 
at seven o'clock. A little later he heard that 
there was a train at six. He then went to the 
railroad man who had informed him that the 
first train was at seven, and asked him if it were 
true that there was a six o'clock train. "There 
is," the railroad official admitted, "but that 
isn't a scheduled train. It's an extra one." If 
he had only said that the first train was at seven, 
but that one went before it at six, it would have 
been more illuminating. 

The pleas antest way to go from Queenstown 
to Cork is by jaunting-car, but if you are up all 
night and drenched with rain, the best way is by 
fast train. As soon as we arrived in Cork we 
found accommodations at the Imperial Hotel 
and went to bed. After a few hours' rest, we 
felt recuperated and were ready for sight-seeing. 

I must begin by informing you that Cork, 
the capital of the South of Ireland, is situated 
on the River Lee. It has a population of about 
seventy thousand inhabitants. If you are lucky 
as you enter the city, you may hear the peal of 

21 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



musical chimes from a church tower in Shandon 
Square. They have been made famous all over 
the world by Father Prout's celebrated lines, 
beginning: 

"With deep affection and recollection, 
I often think of those Shandon bells, 
Whose sound so wild would, 
In the days of childhood 
Fling round my cradle 
Their magic spells." 

I think I could recite the entire poem for you, 
as I learned it once in an elocution class, but, 
if you are so inclined, you can get a copy of 
Father Prout's poems, and, pausing here, read 
the rest of the verses. Supposing you have done 
so, I will now resume. 

Cork contains the graves of Father Prout and 
Gerald Griffin of the Christian Brothers, novel- 
ist and poet, who, perhaps, is best known as the 
author of the "Colleen Bawn." This town, too, I 
must mention, is the birthplace of Father 
Mathew, the temperance advocate. 

When we sauntered out of our hotel, we 
caught sight of a double-decked trolley car, and 
climbing to its top seated ourselves comfortably 
for a view of the city. Patrick Street, through 
which the car passed, is a wide and a busy thor- 
oughfare. 

22 



THE EMERALD ISLE 



On our ride we passed what is called the Stat- 
ues of the Martyrs. There was a young Eng- 
lishman on the trolley car, and he said to Mr. 
Lawlor as he pointed out the statues, "This is 
certainly a great town! Those three figures 
over there were erected in honor of three Irish- 
men who murdered some Englishmen. They 
like us English so much in this city, that if an 
Irishman should kill one of us a statue would 
be erected to him." 

I am so glad we became acquainted with Mrs. 
Lawlor and her son. It would not have been 
pleasant travelling alone. 



28 



BLARNEY CASTLE. 

After lunch to-day, which was rather expen- 
sive for the little that we ate, we boarded a 
jaunting-car and set out for the far-famed 
Blarney Castle. 

The jaunting-car is a fine vehicle for bowling 
over the roads. I enjoyed my first ride very 
much. You have to have your wits about you 
and hold on, for, if the car strikes a rut in the 
road, you may be tossed off. While riding on 
a jaunting-car, you can see only one half of the 
country, as your back is turned to the other half, 
unless you face forward. Is that an Irish 
bull? 

In some parts of Ireland it is compulsory, I 
believe, for the owner of a car to have his name 
legibly printed on the tailboard. There is a 
story told that an inspector accosted the driver 
of a car whose name had been rubbed off, and 
shouted to him, "Your name is obliterated!" 
"No, sir," answered the driver, "it is O'Brien." 

The jarvey that drove us was a fine fellow 
with lots of talk. He pointed out everything 
on the way, and had his own comments to make 

24 




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BLARNEY CASTLE 



on them all. During the entire ride to Blarney 
Castle and back, the rain came pitter patter 
down, but it was a pleasant rain, not very- 
heavy and rather warm. You really wouldn't 
mind it. We had umbrellas with us, but we did 
not consider it necessary to raise them. 

The country we passed through was quite 
charming. After a drive of about five miles, we 
reached Blarney Castle, a beautiful and still a 
strong-looking ruin. The massive Donjon 
Tower was built by Cormack McCarthy in the 
fifteenth century, and contains the famous 
Blarney Stone, of which Father Prout has 
written: 

"There is a stone there 
That whoever kisses, 
Oh, he never misses, 
To grow eloquent." 

All you have to do is to kiss this stone and 
you will be endowed with the sweet, persuasive 
eloquence that is said to be so perceptible in the 
language of the .Cork people, and which is usu- 
ally termed "blarney." 

The tower is one hundred and twenty feet 
high, and, as it is necessary for two persons to 
assist the one who wishes to kiss the stone, the 
task is not a very easy one. Jack accomplished 

25 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



the feat with the help of two gentlemen who 
were viewing the tower. 

Blarney Lake, a pretty sheet of water, is 
about one mile from the castle. There is an odd 
story connected with it. It is said that the Earl 
of Clancarty, who forfeited the property at the 
revolution, sunk all his family plate in a certain 
part of this lake. The place of the sunken 
treasure is a family secret which will not be re- 
vealed until a McCarthy is made Lord of 
Blarney. 

The kissing of the Blarney Stone in olden 
times was somewhat more difficult than at pres- 
ent, and there was always the danger of an ac- 
cident. Jack, on the way home, was talking 
about this possibility to the jarvey, and he told 
us the following story: 

A young lad started to rob a bird's nest which 
was in a bridge overhanging a river. He asked 
his brother, who was half-witted, to hold him 
while he reached down to rob the nest. While 
the half-witted lad was holding on to his 
brother's legs a bright thought struck him. 
"Wait a minute," cried he, "while I spit on 
my hands, so I can get a better hold." Of 
course while he was spitting on his hands his 
brother fell into the river. 

In recent years there has been only one ac- 
26 



BLARNEY CASTLE 



asEffiasssesaHffiKS 



cident at Blarney Castle. A man in kissing the 
stone slipped from his friend's hands, and fell 
to the earth below. Luckily, before he reached 
the ground, he struck a tree and thus escaped 
with a broken shoulder. Since that time the 
newer way of lying down and kissing the stone 
has been adopted. 

After visiting the castle and taking a walk 
around the grounds, we started home. On the 
way we passed an asylum for the insane. "Wait 
until I tell you a joke about that place," said 
the driver. "A man was fishing in a little brook 
running near the asylum, when one of the in- 
mates climbed up the wall and seeing the man 
fishing cried out to him, 'How long have you 
been sitting there?' 'Four hours,' the man an- 
swered. 'Did you catch any fish?' 'Not a 
one/ replied the fisherman. 'Well,' cried the 
lunatic, 'you had better come inside.' " It seems 
to me that I heard that joke before. However, 
it was very apropos. 

Along the road we saw many fine, healthy 
children, who ran after us, shouting, "Throw a 
penny, sir!" 

We had a look in at "Paddy's Market" when 
we got back to Cork. Every thing imaginable 
seemed to be on sale, from pig's feet to old 
bedsteads. It would run a close second to 

27 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



the Yiddish market under the Williamsburg 
Bridge in my own town. 

After dinner we strolled around Cork. The 
boys wear caps and many of the girls wear bon- 
nets. There is more sameness in their head-gear 
than you would see in an American town. 

We bought our tickets for the trip to Glen- 
gariff and the Lakes of Killarney, where we go 
to-morrow. 



28 



GLENGARIFF. 

There are several ways of reaching Glen- 
gariff from Cork. Jack found that out when 
he bought the tickets. We chose the way by 
rail through Bandon to Bantry, and then by 
tally-ho to Glengariff. We had lunch at the 
station in Bantry. 

The town is a rather ancient looking one. It 
was a "market day," and the streets were filled 
with people. The women in this part of the 
country wear long heavy black cloaks with black 
hoods attached to them. This is their "best 
dress," and on a "market day," even if the sun 
were splitting the heavens, they would not go 
without these cloaks. 

A tally-ho was awaiting us in front of the 
hotel, which was situated on the principal street. 
We got on board and our journey took us 
around Bantry Bay on a road where the moun- 
tains and sea meet. The Gulf Stream has a 
great effect upon the climate of this Southern 
Irish coast, imparting an almost tropical mild- 
ness to the salt sea air. Even in the winter time 
the days are soft and balmy, and many people 
who are ill come for a rest to Glengariff. 

29 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

MMMM I III ■■ M. MI HJ IIIIIIW ■■!■■! I BBMHBIBmillll— M— M 

From Bantry the road runs about twenty- 
one miles around the bay, affording successive 
beautiful prospects. About five o'clock in the 
afternoon our coach drew up in front of Roche's 
Hotel at Glengariff. Shortly after we arrived 
another coaching party came from Macroom, 
so the hotel was quite crowded. Before dinner 
we took a stroll down to the town, and on our 
way passed through the domain of the Earl of 
Bantry. 

Travelling in Ireland is fine. I don't know 
anything that I enjoy more than bowling over 
these Irish roads in a tally-ho. You feel a little 
tired, perhaps, at the end of the journey, but the 
smell of the salt air is invigorating. 

Jack bought some souvenirs from a young 
Irish lad in front of the hotel, harps and du- 
deens cut out of bog wood. The lad gave us a 
very graphic description of how difficult it was 
to cut the bog wood out of a bog. You would 
imagine from his description that it was like 
going down a shaft into a mine, whereas, I be- 
lieve the bog is not cut any deeper than ten feet. 
"Oh!" he said, with pathos in his voice, "a man 
must go down and down and down at the risk 
of his life to cut the bog wood, out of which this 
little pipe is made." Of course, Jack couldn't 
resist such eloquence. 

30 



GLENGABIFF 



We lounged around the hotel this evening, as 
this was about all one could do, and moreover, 
we have a long journey before us to-morrow. 
Quite a number of French people visit here both 
summer and winter. I forgot to mention that 
when we went in for dinner the musicians played 
American airs, and "Dixie," as usual, got a 
great deal of applause from the diners. All the 
waiters in the dining-room are Germans. What 
do you know about that? They speak English 
perfectly. I did not try them on Irish, so I do 
not know if they are versed in the Gaelic. 

I feel a little fatigued this evening, so I think 
I will bring this letter to an end. As one of the 
waiters might say, auf Wiedersehen. 



31 



OVER THE MOUNTAINS. 

We left Glengariff this morning, Sunday, at 
nine o'clock. Mass was celebrated in the hotel 
at seven, after which I sauntered out on the 
porch and beheld a most charming view. I am 
quite sure that the Lakes of Killarney will not 
present a finer prospect than Glengariff. The 
peaceful bay stretched away for miles and little 
boats and yachts rode at anchor on the quiet 
water. The rays of the sun fell down upon the 
sea as softly as a benediction. It was a beau- 
tiful sight! A painted ship on a painted ocean 
effect. 

I wish you could have been with us on the ride 
over the mountains from Glengariff to Killar- 
ney. Ireland is a grand country! I did not 
think it was so charming. 

A woman asked the driver of the tally-ho 
where were the little people and the fairies. 
She said she expected to see some of them when 
she came to Ireland, and she was very much 
disappointed. For an answer, he smiled. "I 
suppose there are not any left now?" she further 
queried. "Oh, yes, there are, ma'am." "Where 

32 



OVER THE MOUNTAINS 



BMTOHlfflHlllHlimMIM 



are they, then?" she asked. "Oh, they are 
around," he assured her, "but everybody can- 
not see them." From my own experience, I can 
attest that I have seen many "little people" 
along the Irish roads, the liveliest and healthi- 
est little babies I have ever seen in my life. 

On our way over the mountains we stopped 
at a tiny Irish cabin, newly whitewashed, where 
they had some soft drinks for sale. By noon we 
had arrived at Kenmare, where we lunched. 
The Convent of the Poor Clares, famous for 
making real Irish lace, is situated here. There 
was a Feis going on in the town, the object of 
which was to revive interest in Gaelic affairs, so 
you can imagine that Kenmare presented a 
lively appearance. 

While we were at lunch, the horses were taken 
from the stage coach and new ones harnessed 
in their place. During the meal a boy with some 
sort of a leaf between his fingers furnished 
music for us by playing on it. He performed 
so well that we were all certain that he must 
have had some musical instrument concealed in 
his hands. 

After lunch we started again on our journey, 
and in the late afternoon, as we came down the 
mountains, we got our first glimpse of MacGilli- 
cuddy's Reeks, and a little later we reached the 

33 



M ARGARETS TRAVELS 

far-famed "Killarney Lakes and Fells." It was 
nearly seven o'clock when we arrived at the ho- 
tel, after coming forty miles over the mountains. 
We were tired but happy, a rather pleasant 
combination. After washing up we proceeded 
immediately to the dining-room where we par- 
took of an excellent dinner, with some more 
German waiters on the side for a change. Dur- 
ing the dinner the band played "The Star Span- 
gled Banner." 

After dinner we took a walk around the ho- 
tel grounds, and lo and behold, we came across 
the ruins of McCarthy Mor's Castle. It was 
a peaceful summer evening along the shore of 
the lake. The moon shone down and threw its 
silver light on the "Emerald isles and winding 
bays." We sat on the shore and drank in the 
beauty of the scene. Every little while I had 
to pinch myself to see if I were surely awake. 
I have often dreamed of travelling through Ire- 
land, and of being in London, Paris, and Rome, 
and then I have awakened bitterly disappointed. 
I am sometimes afraid now that it is only a 
dream. Shakespeare says: 

"We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on; and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep." 

I think it is about time for the "round-up." 
34 



LAKES OF KILLARNEY. 

We have had several fine days in the open. 
After breakfasting we started out to see the 
lakes. A carriage was provided for us, and our 
first stop was at the ruins of Ross Castle, situ- 
ated, I believe, on Lord Kenmare's estate. 

After visiting the ruins of the castle we went 
down to the lake and stepped into a rowboat. 
A young Irish lad was in command, and when 
we were seated in the boat, he called out to the 
rowers, "Now, all together, one after another." 

The Lakes of Killarney are, we found out, 
teeming with legends. On one little island 
called Mouse Island, our guide told us that 
every Sunday afternoon, at vesper time, seven 
little white mice come out and sing Irish songs 
and dance Irish jigs. Jack asked the guide, 
"Are we supposed to believe all these things?" 
"Well, sir," he answered, with a twinkle in his 
eye, "it is my business to tell you everything I 
know and some things I don't know." 

Here also on these lakes can be seen, so tra- 
dition saith, every seven years on a bright May 
morning the vision of O'Donoghue, the Lord 

35 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



of the Glens, riding across the lakes on a beau- 
tiful white horse. So many things seem to hap- 
pen here on a bright May morning ! 

The Lakes of Killarney are studded with tiny 
islands, and "girt round with rugged moun- 
tains." There are four islands in the middle 
lake, thirty in the lower, and six in the upper, 
which, though the smallest, is the most beautiful. 
The Colleen Bawn Caves are in the neighbor- 
hood of the middle lake. There is one remark- 
able fact about the Lakes of Killarney: it never 
rains there. No matter how hard it is pouring, 
the guides will tell you that it is only "a little 
perspiration from the hills." 

It is strange how rough these small inland 
lakes can become. A few summers ago a party 
of seven people was drowned here. We rode 
across the lake to Dinish Island, where we par- 
took of an excellent lunch that had been sent 
along with us in baskets from the hotel. The 
hotels at Killarney, by the way, are all right. 

In the afternoon we did the Gap of Dunloe. 
You enter from one side of the gap and go 
through on ponies. In the meantime the crowd 
goes through you. The gap is a ravine between 
the mountains, and looks as if the mountains 
were cleft in twain by a mighty sword. It is 
a narrow defile four miles long between MacGil- 

36 



LAKES OF KILLARNEY 



mtmafvammisai 



licuddy's Reeks and Purple Mountain. The gap 
is made interesting by the number of people 
who are looking for a little money. 

First we met an old woman who had winter 
socks for sale. After her we came across a man 
with a cannon, who shoots it off in order to bring 
back an echo from the surrounding mountains. 

"Do you want to hear an echo?" he shouted, 
as we were passing. "Let it go," Jack called 
back. At the sound of the noise our ponies 
took fright and started down the hill. We 
waved an adieu to the old man, Jack at the 
same time trying to explain that we were not 
escaping in order to avoid giving him a tip. 
When we reached the bottom of the hill, I sud- 
denly heard a voice exclaim, "Well, sir, how did 
you like the echo?" I turned round, and to my 
great surprise, I found the owner of the cannon. 
As soon as he had shot it off he started helter 
skelter down the hill, and by the time we had 
reined in our fiery chargers he was at our side. 
Jack gave him a little tip and then he started 
up the road again to cause more echoes for the 
delight of those who followed us. 

After that came the man with the cornet. 
He played by main strength, and I must con- 
fess that he was a very bad performer. 

When we had finished our trip through the 
37 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■i 

gap, the carriage brought us over nine miles of 
good Irish roads and through a lovely country 
back to the hotel. 

The next day we visited Muckross Abbey, 
which is a most beautiful ruin. It was founded 
in 1340, and is still in decent preservation. 
Within the abbey is a graveyard containing 
the tombs of once powerful Irish families. 
The view from the east window is considered 
very beautiful. There is an ivy without 
a root still growing up the side of the 
abbey. The tomb of the O'Donoghue of 
the Glens, the old-time chieftain of the lakes, 
was pointed out to us. In the same vault lie 
the ashes of the chiefs of the great MacCarthy 
Mor family. From this family came the 
Princes of Desmond, who were kings of Mun- 
ster before the era of St. Patrick. They were 
also the founders of the abbey and of Blarney 
Castle in Cork. The O'Donoghues and Mac- 
Carthy Mors intermarried. 

There is a peculiar window in this old abbey 
called a squint window, situated in the infirmary. 
The reason for the existence of this window was 
to give the monks who were ill a chance to see 
and hear the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice 
of the Mass without leaving the room. No 
doubt, there are many in our time living near 

38 



LAKES OF KILLARNEY 



churches who would like to have a squint win- 
dow in their houses so that they could hear Mass 
on a Sunday morning without leaving their 
homes. 

In the centre of the abbey is a yew tree, said 
to be the largest in the world. It is probably 
as old as the abbey itself, as it was the custom 
of the Franciscan monks to plant a yew tree at 
the foundation of an abbey. Muckross Abbey 
and a great part of Killarney are owned by 
Lord Ardilaun, who is one of the Guinnesses, 
famous all over the world as the makers of Dub- 
lin porter. Lord Ardilaun seems to be the 
owner of nearly everything around here. 



39 



DUBLIN. 

As you see from the address of tHe note pa- 
per, we are stopping at the Shelbourne Hotel. 
We came up here from Killarney on the after- 
noon train which was uncomfortably crowded. I 
bought some apples from a boy at one of the 
stations at which we stopped. I reached him 
a sixpence for them, which would be ample pay- 
ment in our country. "It's a bob, ma'am," he 
replied, as the train was moving out. I shouted 
back, "What's a bob?" But before I could 
catch his explanation that a bob was a shilling, 
the train was under way, and I had the apples. 

On the journey we had an old lady in the 
same compartment with us. She was very chatty 
and interesting. She said that when girls left 
Ireland for America, they were strong and 
healthy, but after they were some years away 
and returned to Ireland, they looked worn and 
pale. "I guess the Yankees make them work 
too hard!" she added. Still she said that it 
would be a good thing if every village in Ire- 
land had one or two women who had been to 
the States and returned to pass the rest of their 

40 



DUBLIN 

days. The reason she gave was that they were 
good housekeepers and would be an excellent 
example to the others. They would give those 
who had never been abroad a better idea of the 
necessity of careful housekeeping. I imagine 
the old lady's notion is a good one. Some of 
the women here seem to have so much idle time. 
Probably their ambition has been killed off. It 
seems that in the past when they improved their 
homes and looked a little prosperous the land- 
lord or his agent would come along and raise 
the rent. It is like the case of the man whose 
wife was ill in the hospital. Each time he 
called to ask how she was, he was told that she 
was improving. Then one day she died. A 
friend meeting him inquired how his wife was, 
and he answered that she was dead. "What did 
she die of?" the friend asked. "She died of im- 
provements," the man replied. So improve- 
ments on their little farms and homes in this 
country caused the rents to be raised and de- 
stroyed finally all ambition. 

We arrived in Dublin about seven o'clock in 
the evening. The hotel is pleasantly situated 
opposite St. Stephen's Green. This town is 
quite modern and has trolley cars running in 
every direction. Its principal thoroughfare is 
O'Connell Street, formerly called Sackville 

41 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

He— — ■— — — m i — — — — — i — — ■ n— — t 

Street. It has been re-named in honor of Ire- 
land's great orator, Daniel O'Connell, and is 
one of the finest streets in all Europe. The 
River Liffey runs through the city. Its waters 
are not very limpid. Some one said of the River 
Mersey in England, "The quality of Mersey is 
not strained." The same may be said of the 
Liffey. 

At one end of a bridge which crosses the river 
is the colossal statue of Daniel O'Connell, and 
there is also a tall pillar erected in memory of 
Nelson's victories. You can ascend to the statue 
on top of this monument for the small sum of 
threepence. 

The Bank of Ireland is architecturally quite 
beautiful. It has an interesting history because 
it was formerly the old Parliament House. 
Here the Irish Parliament met, and Grattan, 
Flood, Curran and other famous orators deliv- 
ered their philippics against English oppression. 

From this spot we got a view of Trinity Col- 
lege. This institution was originally founded by 
the Catholic Church, but was closed during the 
reign of Henry VIII, and afterwards in the 
reign of Queen Elizabeth it was opened under 
Protestant influence. 

St. Patrick's Cathedral, also founded by 
Catholics, passed out of their hands at the time 

42 



DUBLIN 

of the Reformation. It is built on the site of 
a well, where St. Patrick baptized his converts. 

The Cathedral of Christ Church, formerly 
Catholic, is also now Protestant. It contains 
the tombs of Dean Swift and the famous Stella. 

We took a drive through Glasnevin Cemetery. 
Daniel O'Connell and Charles Stewart Parnell 
are buried there. A tall column marks the last 
resting-place of the great Irish liberator, but 
as yet, there is no monument over the grave of 
Parnell. We continued on our drive through 
Phoenix Park, and saw the spot on which Lord 
Cavendish and Burke, his secretary, were killed. 

Dublin Castle, which we visited on one of 
Cook's tours, is a very notable place, and is the 
official residence of the Viceroy of Ireland. It 
has played a great part in the oppression of Ire- 
land by England, and I believe every Irishman 
cordially hates it. There was an old Irishman 
with us in company of several American friends 
who came to visit the castle. The old man posi- 
tively refused to enter it, and gave as a reason 
that too many good Irishmen had been unjustly 
dealt with within its walls. 

We saw a cricket game on the green at Trin- 
ity College. The gentlemen of Ireland were 
playing a team from South Africa. Jack says 
"Cricket is a fine game, but, oh, you baseball!" 

43 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



The accent of the Dublin people is charming. 
Young women act as clerks in the hotels, and 
they are more obliging and much less pompous 
than the clerks in our own hotels at home. You 
have to pay strict attention here when people 
are talking, as the difference in their accent 
makes it a little harder for one to understand. 
They naturally experience the same difficulty 
with us. When I was handed my bill by the 
book-keeper of the hotel, I was quite staggered. 
It was made up in shillings, and for the mo- 
ment I thought they represented dollars. 

There are signs in the lobby of the Shelbourne 
informing travellers that the horse show will 
soon open in Dublin, and that during it the en- 
tire hotel will be reserved. Only the wealthy 
English who come over for this event will be 
able to find accommodations here. 



44 



GLENDALOUGH. 

Jack engaged an automobile for the journey- 
to Glendalough. After leaving the hotel and 
getting out into the country, the first thing we 
did was to run over a hen. A little colleen 
rushed out from a cottage crying, "Oh, mother, 
they killed our little white hen!" I called the 
chauffeur's attention to what had happened, 
but he dismissed the subject by saying, "We al- 
ways expect to kill a couple of dogs or chickens 
when we go out." What cold-blooded execu- 
tioners these chauffeurs are! 

When we arrived at Powerscourt, where 
there is a pretty waterfall, we were informed 
that the hunters were riding around the vicinity 
on a fox hunt. We would have liked to have 
remained a while and taken the chance of seeing 
them, but, as our time was limited, we had to 
push ahead. 

It began to rain after we left Powerscourt, 
and, as the automobile was open on the sides, we 
were not very well protected. When we arrived 
at Glendalough, the guide Jack hired made 
little of the rain, saying that it was a fine day, 

45 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

l iiii i i mi iii iHt.mi i i i nMi ii ii i H 'i Mi i w iiii n i n ii —nB^—w ■eta— MB— — ■— 1^— —■— 

the finest one they had had in three months. By 
the time we came to the lake, across which it 
was necessary to row to reach St. Kevin's bed, 
the rain was coming down in torrents. "Is this 
the finest day you have had here in three 
months?" Jack inquired. The guide smiled 
and admitted that it was not. Mrs. Lawlor re- 
mained in the auto, but we accompanied Jack. 
It poured while we were on the little lake, and 
I was surprised at the angry look of this small 
inland sheet of water. It is quite an undertak- 
ing to climb up the rocks to St. Kevin's bed, 
especially on a rainy day, but Jack with sev- 
eral other men performed the feat. The guides 
make a little unnecessary fuss in the ascent, but 
they get in their fine work when helping one 
down the rocks. St. Kevin's bed is a small cave 
about the length of a man's body. If you should 
slip from the rocks, of course you would tumble 
into the lake. On leaving the bed, the guide 
insisted that Jack and the others lie on the 
broad of their backs. He then slid them down 
the rocks to another guide standing below. You 
can imagine the state of their clothing after thus 
lying down on the sodden earth and wet rocks. 
"Suppose the man below should slip?" Jack 
asked. "That man could never slip," the guide 
responded, "he is made of bog-oak." Very much 

46 



GLENDALOUGH 



covered with mud and thoroughly drenched, 
Jack finally got back to Mother Earth again. 

Sir Walter Scott once visited St. Kevin's bed. 
After he had come down and gone away, so the 
story says, some one told the woman who had 
guided Sir Walter to the place, that he was a 
poet. "Poet," said she, "not a bit of him, but 
an honorable gentleman — he gave me half a 
crown." 

After Jack had descended from St. Kevin's 
bed, we wandered around among the ruins. 
The rain kept pouring down, but we could not 
possibly get any wetter. There are several 
curiosities among the ruins. One is a wishing 
chair, and whoever sits in it and makes a wish 
will surely have it granted. I sat in the chair 
and wished it would stop raining, but it didn't. 

Then there is a pillar of stone. "Now try to 
span that stone," said one of the guides. Im- 
mediately I stepped forward to span the stone. 
I worked very hard, and it looked for a while 
as if I would not succeed, but finally, after 
great straining, my finger tips touched. "What 
do I get for that?" I asked. "Well," the guide 
responded, "anyone that spans that stone will 
never grow stout." "What!" I exclaimed in 
horror. "That's a fact," answered the guide 
reassuringly. "Now, see here, Mr. Physician," 

47 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



I protested, "if you have any more prescrip- 
tions like that, you can keep them to yourself. 
I am anxious to gain a little in weight." "I am 
sorry," he apologized, "that I didn't explain it 
to you more fully. But, do you know, this is 
a very popular stone with the ladies. We have 
ladies coming here who almost break their arms 
trying to span it." A great cure, isn't it, for 
that dreaded thing called embonpoint? 

The Round Tower, one hundred and ten feet 
high, is one of the most interesting sights among 
the ruins. So also is St. Kevin's kitchen. 

After we had completed our visit to the old 
shrine, we were glad to get back to the little 
hotel, where a hot dinner was awaiting us, and 
which, I can assure you, we thoroughly enjoyed. 
Resting for a while, we started for the Vale of 
Avoca, and the Meeting of the Waters. The 
Vale of Avoca and the Meeting of the Waters 
are the only things in Ireland in which I have 
been disappointed. In the exquisitely beauti- 
ful language of our own country, these places 
are a frost. Two streams, the Avonbeg and 
Avonmore, meet here and flow through the val- 
ley of Avoca. 

Tom Moore, when he wrote his well-known 
poem, was thinking more of the charm of 

48 



GLENDALOUGH 



friendship than he was of the beauty of the 
natural scenery of the place. You may remem- 
ber the lines: 

"Sweet Vale of Avoca, how calm could I rest, 
In thy bosom of shade with the friends I loved best, 
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should 

cease, 
And our hearts like thy waters be mingled in peace." 

After visiting the Meeting of the Waters, we 
started back to Dublin. We were very wet and 
tired when we arrived at the hotel and glad to 
get into dry clothes. 

We had another pleasant little trip to Bray, 
one of the watering-places for Dublin people. 
On the road, we came upon the estate of Mr. 
Richard Croker, who is well known to New 
Yorkers. It seems a rather lonesome place to 
live in for a man who had led such a busy and 
energetic life in our big city. 

We made this trip by jaunting-car, and on 
the way we were passed by a tally-ho and the 
huntsman's horn broke the silence of the coun- 
try side. This tally-ho leaves one of the Dublin 
hotels for Bray every day. 

I have found out a few more things about the 
jaunting-car. When a lady and gentleman are 
sitting on the same side of a car, the gentleman 

49 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



should sit in front, as the rear seat is the more 
protected and comfortable. Another thing to 
be avoided is holding on. One who sits prop- 
erly on a car will not fall off. It might be safer 
though for one who is just learning to ride on 
an outside car to hold on a little, especially 
when going around a corner. They distinguish 
here between an inside car and an outside car 
by telling you that an inside car has the wheels 
outside, and an outside car has the wheels in- 
side. Jack discovered in a guide-book that in 
an inside car there is great danger to the trav- 
eller's legs in case of a side collision. He says 
he is going to follow the advice of the guide- 
book, which says that travellers should practice 
raising their legs to the back of the driver's 
seat, so as to be able to perform this operation 
in case of a collision. After all there is not so 
much danger on an inside car as there is in a 
railroad train. As some one has said, "If you 
are thrown from a car, why, there you are, but 
if you are pitched from a train where are you?" 
Bray is quite a fine place. There is an espla- 
nade along the sea for about a mile. It was a 
gala day when we arrived. There were some 
rowing races between the crews of different 
vessels, and a number of amusements for young 
people such as one sees at Coney Island. Don't 

50 



GLENDALOUGH 



imagine from this description that Bray is like 
Coney Island. It is quite a small affair and is 
rather a cottage colony. 

We expect to leave Dublin to-morrow for the 
North. I will write you again at the first op- 
portunity. 



51 



THE NORTH OF IRELAND. 

On our way to the north of Ireland we passed 
by the little town of Maynooth, where there is 
a celebrated college. We travelled many miles 
through the bog of Allen, and the prospect was 
rather dreary. When we arrived at Cavan, 
where we were to rest for the night, we had our 
own troubles, as we discovered that our trunks 
had gone astray. Let me impress upon you 
this one thing, never lose sight of your trunks 
if you come here. Don't do as we did. We 
labelled our trunks to Cavan, but we got off at 
another station to make a side trip to Granard, 
a town in Longford, where my grandmother was 
born. We caught the next train to Cavan, but, 
when we arrived there, we discovered the trunks 
were not at the station. No one had any posi- 
tive information about them. They knew that 
some trunks had been taken from the train, but 
all of them were despatched to other stations, 
some being sent as far as Londonderry, or 
Derry, as it is commonly called. The station 
agent telegraphed to Derry, and word came 
back that the trunks that arrived there were 

52 



THE NORTH OF IRELAND 



claimed by people who got off the train. Noth- 
ing further could be done that evening, and as 
the next day was Sunday, we rested. The fol- 
lowing day was a bank holiday, and in Ireland, 
on a bank holiday, all business is entirely sus- 
pended. In the baggage room of the station at 
Cavan, there was a trunk that had been lying 
there for six weeks, so the station master in- 
formed me. The owner of that trunk had my 
sympathy. 

On Tuesday morning, tired of waiting, and 
unable to get any definite information, Jack 
started back to Dublin on the six o'clock train. 
He told us his experiences when he returned. 
He jumped off the train at every station and 
inquired for the trunks. He got considerable 
advice and information, but did not get the bag- 
gage, or luggage, as they call it here. One 
station agent assured him that most trunks that ' 
went astray after travelling over the greater 
part of Ireland generality got back to Queens- 
town. How about that for Job's comforter? 

When he reached Dublin he inquired at the 
Shelbourne Hotel to see if any notice of the 
trunks had arrived there, but, of course, they 
knew nothing about them. Then he went to the 
office of the railroad. They had no information 
to give him there, but sent him over to the rail- 

53 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

road office for the Derry trains. At this office 
they promised to telegraph to Deny. He then 
went back to the hotel to await developments. 
When he arrived there, a telegram was waiting 
for him to say that the station agent at Cavan 
had received word from Derry locating the 
trunks. They reached Cavan that afternoon. 
Jack says he was assured on all sides that he 
would certainly get his trunks. Sometimes 
trunks go astray in Ireland, but they are never 
lost. 

Cavan is a small country town with one busy 
street. Jack got shaved while there, and he says 
the barber swung the razor around like a toma- 
hawk. He shaved him in about four minutes 
and charged twopence. Jack says it was the 
quickest and cheapest shave he ever got, but not 
the pleasantest. 

On Sunday in Cavan, there was a great pa- 
rade in honor of a hero named Miles the Slasher, 
who held the bridge at Fernay until he was 
killed. A band that was out for the ceremonies 
at the bridge of Fernay returned in the evening 
and marched down the main street of Cavan. 
It played pretty well for a village band, but I 
don't think it got in all the notes. 

There is a fine-looking young man attached 
to the hotel whom I had first taken for the pro- 

54 



THE NORTH OF IRELAND 

prietor. I was much surprised on hearing him 
called " Boots." That is the name applied to 
the one who attends to the stage and works 
around the hotel. I am sure he would never 
stand for such an appellation in our country. 

The weather while we were in Cavan was 
pleasant but rather cool. I wore a light jacket 
while out driving. The people, however, 
thought the weather was hot. One man who 
was pitching hay rested for a moment, and mop- 
ping his brow, exclaimed, "No man should have 
to work on a day as hot as this." 

From Cavan we went to Belfast and found 
the journey a pleasant one. We passed through 
Armagh, where, as you know, the only cardinal 
in Ireland resides. When we came near Belfast, 
I noticed written on a fence the words, "No 
Popery allowed here." This phrase recalled to 
my mind that we were entering the city of the 
Orangemen. As you come into Belfast, the 
fields are covered with linen which has been 
newly turned out from the mills to bleach. 

Belfast is quite a busy town. In many ways 
it resembles an American city. They have a 
City Hall here, the staircase of which is the fin- 
est I have ever seen, with the exception of the 
one in the Congressional Library at Wash- 
ington. 

55 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

It has beeen raining a great deal since we ar- 
rived. It rains more in the north of Ireland 
than it does in the interior. 

Jack went out to witness a cricket match, 
and he gave us an interesting account of it. 
The cricketers go to their club-house and don 
their suits and then it starts to rain. They loll 
about for ten or fifteen minutes and the rain 
lets up a little. Then they begin to play. A 
little later the rain comes down in torrents and 
everybody runs back to the club-house. After 
a while the rain ceases and then all come out 
and the game is resumed. Then it begins to 
rain again and keeps on raining, so the cricket- 
ers finally give up in disgust and return home. 

Mrs. Lawlor, Alice, and I visited the stores, 
which are quite up to date. We purchased some 
fine linen handkerchiefs. 

From Belfast we took a trip to the Giant's 
Causeway, the great attraction in the north of 
Ireland. The guide-books describe it as a won- 
derful geological formation of forty thousand 
columns. After leaving Belfast you pass 
Queen's Island where there is a ship-building 
yard at which the White Star steamships are 
built. 

The train lands you at a small resort called 
Portrush. It was quite cool while we were 

56 



THE NORTH OF IRELAND 



there, yet a number of people were in bathing. 
At Portrush we took a tram-car to the Cause- 
way. On the way we passed Dunluce Castle, 
a most picturesque ruin. Further on we came 
to Bushmills, where the Bushmills whisky is 
made. About two miles from Bushmills is the 
celebrated "geological formation." 

Perhaps you have never heard the story of 
the Causeway. It seems that a giant, Fin 
McCool, was the champion of Ireland, and he 
had heard of the boasting of a Scotch giant that 
he could beat any man, and if it wasn't that he 
did not want to get his feet wet, he would come 
over to Ireland and give Fin a severe castiga- 
tion. Fin, of course, was incensed when he 
heard these remarks, and he applied to the king, 
who gave him leave to erect a causeway to 
Scotland on which the Scotchman could walk 
over and have the fight. Fin won the battle, 
and out of the generosity of his heart kindly al- 
lowed his former rival to marry and settle in 
Ireland, which the Scotchman was not sorry to 
do, as living at that time in Scotland was none 
of the best, while, as everybody knows, Ireland 
was the richest country in the world. When the 
giants died, the Causeway, being no longer nec- 
essary, disappeared under the sea, leaving only 
a portion of it visible here, a little at the Island 

57 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

of Rathlin, and the portals of the grand gate 
at Staffa. 

There is another story that I have heard which 
does not explain the Causeway, but it is a good 
one for all that. It seems that a Scotch giant 
was boasting about what he would do to Fin 
McCool if he ever came over to Ireland. Fin 
dared him to come, and when he arrived on the 
Irish coast and Fin got a look at him, he was 
terribly frightened at the enormous size of the 
Scotch giant. For a moment he did not know 
what to do, but his wife solved the difficulty. 
She put him to bed. A little later, the Scotch 
giant appeared at the door, and being invited 
in, he asked where Fin was. Fin's wife said he 
had gone out to the woods. The Scotch giant 
looked into the bedroom where Fin was repos- 
ing, and seeing the large figure covered up un- 
der the clothes, he asked "Who's that?" "Oh! 
that is our little baby," exclaimed Mrs. Fin 
McCool. "The baby!" cried the Scotch giant in 
dismay, "well, I think I will go out for a walk 
and come back later." "Suit yourself," said the 
woman, and the Scotch giant disappeared never 
to return. 

When we arrived at the Causeway, we found 
a hale and hearty old man who offered himself 
as a guide. Jack engaged him, and he con- 

58 



THE NORTH OF IRELAND 



ducted us on a good two hours' walk over the 
basaltic formations, through the little, middle, 
and grand causeways. The "Giant's Organ," 
the "Chimney-tops," the "Priest and his Flock," 
and the "Hen and Chickens," are to be noted 
in the rocky formations. Every little while our 
guide would stop and say, "Now I want you to 
notice this wonderful geological formation. 
Now that stone," pointing to one, "is a hepta- 
gon and this one is an octagon." A little farther 
on he told us to take three sips out of a well and 
make three wishes, which we accordingly did. 
This, he explained, is called the "Wishing 
Well." We resumed our journey and then he 
stopped us again, and, as if he was imparting 
a piece of new information, said, "Now this 
is a wonderful geological formation. That 
stone is a heptagon and this one is an octagon." 
I wondered how many times in his life he had 
used those words. We wandered on a little 
further over the rocks when the old man stopped 
us again, and began "Now this is a wonderful 
geological formation." He didn't get any fur- 
ther because Jack broke in on him, saying, 
"Here, old man, cut out those heptagons and 
octagons and show us a parallelopipedon." 
Jack's remark set us laughing, and the old man 
eased up on his lessons in geology. 

59 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

— — — — I — — — ^ ^^— — ^^— — — — I 

Another interesting excursion at the cause- 
way is the boat ride to a large cave in the rocks. 
This little excursion can be taken only on days 
when the water is smooth. 

We intend to cross the Irish Sea to Eng- 
land to-night, where we land at Hayshem. 
We have spent two pleasant weeks in the Em- 
erald Isle. It has been a rainy season here, 
otherwise we would have had a still pleasanter 
time. I have enjoyed my visit very much, es- 
pecially the scenery in the south of Ireland and 
the long drives over the mountain roads, so I can 
say with the poet: 

"Buried and cold when my heart stills her motion, 
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean, 
And thy harp-striking bards sing loud with devotion, 
Erin Mavourneen, Erin go bragh !" 



60 



tt£|3j i 




gpr$H' 


^ r -T^J*r l :3^"l.^^jL!j^3 : ^S^MI sSyfffn 


HeEsliyirliEL*- v /jHP^^ 


•iSSHB^^^P?fcBM^», , - . 





TRAFALGAR SQUARE 



LONDON. 

We are in "London town." We had an un- 
eventful trip across the Irish Sea, or, in other 
words, none of us was sea-sick. 

When we arrived at the boat in the evening, 
after coming from the Giant's Causeway, we 
sat down to a substantial dinner which we all 
enjoyed. After that Jack and I walked the 
deck of the vessel for about an hour while Mrs. 
Lawlor and Alice chatted. The night was 
charming. This is generally, as you know, a 
very rough sea, but we did not find it so. The 
boat arrived at Hayshem the following morn- 
ing about five o'clock. 

As there were two trains for London, one at 
six and one at seven, we chose the latter. There 
was a dining-car attached and we had our break- 
fast on board. The country through which we 
passed was a pleasant one, but not particularly 
beautiful. There were no little low cabins along 
the route such as we saw in Ireland. We got 
into London about noontime. I like this old 
town. We have been on the go very much since 

61 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



we arrived here. We are stopping at the Cecil, 
which is on the Strand. 

I hardly know how to tell you all the things 
I have seen. My thoughts are actually jum- 
bled. I try to remember everything, and, believe 
me, that is attempting the impossible. 

One would have to know architecture quite 
thoroughly to appreciate properly all that one 
sees. My dear, before you come to Europe, 
study architecture. Do you know the difference 
between a Corinthian, Doric, and Ionic column? 
If not, don't go to bed the night you receive this 
until you do know. 

Are you familiar with the Renaissance style, 
not in lace, but in architecture? Do you know 
the difference between Byzantine and Gothic? 
Did you ever hear tell of Sir Christopher Wren, 
Inigo Jones or Pugin? A knowledge of these 
is necessary to gain a proper idea of the build- 
ings we have visited. 

The Cecil Hotel is situated on the Strand 
next to the Hotel Savoy. The rear of our hotel 
looks out on the Victoria Embankment, which 
runs along the Thames. There is an obelisk 
called "Cleopatra's Needle" hard by. No 
properly conducted modern city seems to be 
complete without an obelisk. Just beyond the 
Savoy is Somerset House, with a facade on the 

62 



LONDON 



Thames side seven hundred and eighty feet in 
length. It was formerly a palace, but is now 
used for public offices. 

After gettting a view from the rear of the 
hotel, we came out on the Strand. It surely 
is a busy street. Charing Cross station attracted 
our attention. In front of it is a monument 
erected in memory of the fact that Queen Ele- 
nore's body rested there on its way to Westmin- 
ster Abbey. Formerly the spot was marked by 
a cross. Dr. Johnson said of this part of Lon- 
don, "I think the full tide of human existence 
is at Charing Cross." That remark was made 
before the corner of Broadway and Forty-sec- 
ond Street was discovered. 

We walked on as far as Trafalgar Square, 
a fine square, indeed, in the centre of which is 
a big granite column, one hundred and forty-five 
feet in height, in memory of Lord Nelson and 
of his death at the battle of Trafalgar. It is 
crowned with a statue of Nelson, and at the four 
corners of the pedestal there are immense lions, 
modelled by Sir Edwin Landseer. 

From Trafalgar Square we made our way 
into Whitehall, that debouches, as a guide-book 
might say, from the square. Old Scotland 
Yard, the former home of the police of London, 
attracted Jack's attention, as Scotland Yard 

63 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

detectives are famous all over the world. We 
stopped in front of the Horse Guards, which 
was used as a guard house when Whitehall, the 
palace of King Henry VIII, was in existence. 
We saw several of the soldiers acting as sen- 
tinels. They were fine-looking and dressed 
handsomely. While we were watching them, a 
small boy came along and winking at Jack, said, 
with a roguish smile, "Paper soldiers." That 
was rather a hard knock. 

I was interested when I came to Downing 
Street, where the English Foreign Offices are 
situated. I met some English people once, 
and as they were in the employ of the Govern- 
ment, I heard a great deal about Downing 
Street. 

We arrived, after a little walk, at the House 
of Parliament. It is said to be probably the 
largest Gothic building in the world, and it cer- 
tainly is very imposing. It has a terrace nine 
hundred feet long fronting on the Thames, where 
the members and their friends take afternoon 
tea. It has a Royal tower and a clock tower 
which contains Big Ben, one of the largest bells 
ever cast. If there is a light in this tower at 
night, and the Union Jack flies from it by day, 
then the "House" is sitting. 

The interior of the House of Parliament is 
64 



LONDON 



impressive. We visited the Royal Gallery, 
through which the king comes in solemn pro- 
cession when he opens Parliament. It is not 
proper on such an occasion to look at the sov- 
ereign through a lorgnette. The House of 
Peers, a handsome room where the lords hold 
forth, contains the throne of the king. 

In the House of Commons, the guide pointed 
out to Jack some of the seats occupied by the 
most distinguished members. 

Westminster Hall, connected with the House 
of Parliament, is part of the old palace of West- 
minster and is famous because so many his- 
torical characters were condemned to death 
there. The trial of Warren Hastings, which 
lasted seven years, was held in this hall. 

Just back of the House of Parliament is 
Westminster Abbey. You have read all about 
it in Washington Irving's "Sketch Book." It 
is England's Walhalla, or if you will, its Ap- 
pian Way. Nearly all the sovereigns of Eng- 
land from Edward the Confessor have been 
crowned in the Abbey, and many kings and 
queens lie interred within it. 

Some of the remains of the original church 
built by St. Edward about 1065 are to be seen 
in its cloisters. Henry III entirely rebuilt the 
Abbey; and the Lady Chapel, or Chapel of 

65 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



Henry VII, was erected later. This is a very- 
beautiful chapel, built, my guide-book informs 
me, in the florid perpendicular style of archi- 
tecture. The ceiling is finely carved and cov- 
ered with delicate fret-work. The Abbey itself 
is an impressive Gothic church, the beauty and 
interest of which are increased by the tombs 
within it. Both Abbey and Chapel, I need not 
tell you, were built when Merrie England was 
Catholic. 

As you pass along through aisles and chapels, 
you see the graves and monuments of those 
whom England delights to honor. Many names 
on the tombs are very familiar. I was most in- 
terested in the Poet's Corner, as it is called. 
There we beheld the graves of Chaucer, the 
father of English poetry, Edmund Spencer, the 
author of the Faerie Queen, Dryden, from 
whom Pope professed to have learned the art 
of poetry, and John Gay, the author of the 
Beggar's Opera. He wrote his own epitaph, 
called by the guide-books irreverent, which is in- 
scribed on his tomb: 

"Life is a jest; and all things show it, 
I thought so once, but now I know it." 

Jack says it sounds like the sentiment of one 
who was more sore than gay. 

66 



LONDON 



We saw the graves of the great Doctor John- 
son and his friend, David Garrick, of Charles 
Dickens, Robert Browning and Lord Tennyson. 

The chapel of Henry VII serves as a resting 
place for the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots. 
Oliver Cromwell was buried here, but the verger 
who conducted us told us that his body had been 
taken out and thrown into a ditch, and he 
added that it was a good thing. I knew that 
Cromwell, who desecrated the churches and 
monasteries of Ireland, was not beloved in the 
Emerald Isle, but I was surprised to hear an 
Englishman talk so bitterly against the Pro- 
tector. I looked the matter up afterwards and 
found out that the body of Cromwell was thrown 
into a pit at Tyburn, and his head was exposed 
on a pinnacle of Westminster Hall for about 
twenty-five years until a high wind blew it down. 
Didn't they do funny things in ye olden time? 

Henry VII, after whom the chapel is named, 
Queen Elizabeth, and her sister, Queen Mary, 
are buried here. One monument in another 
chapel represents a skeleton in marble coming 
out of a tomb and launching a dart at a dying 
woman, whose husband tries to save her. Mrs. 
Lawlor was affected by this sight and hurried 
away from it. Nearby is a tablet commemorat- 
ing Admiral Kempenfelt, who was drowned 

67 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

with hundreds of sailors when the Royal George 
sank. When I was a little girl I came across a 
volume of Cowper's poems, in which I found the 
poem entitled "The Loss of the Royal George/' 

"His sword was in its sheath, 
His fingers held the pen, 
When Kempenfelt went down 
With twice four hundred men." 

I liked the ring of the poetry, and Kempenfelt's 
memorial had a personal interest for me. 

The tombs with the recumbent marble figures 
of kings and queens side by side are royal look- 
ing and impressive. 

There is so much to be seen in the Abbey that 
one comes out of it with a confused mind, but 
still, notwithstanding this, you feel satisfied that 
you have seen so much that has an interest never 
to be forgotten. It is certainly a great priv- 
ilege to stand by the graves of those whose 
poetry and whose writings have given so much 
pleasure and joy to the English speaking world. 



68 



THE TOWER. 

We have been through the Tower of London. 
It is a most interesting old place. Long ago I 
read Harrison Ainsworth's novel, "The Tower 
of London," which gives a very graphic de- 
scription of the Tower in the time of Queen 
Mary and Queen Elizabeth. If you have never 
read it you should do so, and get acquainted with 
those three worthy gentlemen, Og, Gog, and 
Magog. 

The Tower was built originally by William 
the Conqueror, so you see it is very ancient. 
The crown jewels were exposed to view while 
we were there, and thus we were fortunate to 
get a look at the diamonds and other precious 
stones worn by the kings and queens of Eng- 
land. A crown made for Queen Victoria has 
three thousand eight hundred and eighteen dia- 
monds and three hundred pearls. The whole 
value of these jewels is said to be three million 
pounds. 

There are numerous towers in the old palace, 
or prison, which is a better word for it. The 
White Tower is the oldest one, but the Beau- 

69 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



chanip is the most interesting. The walls of 
this tower are covered with inscriptions, made 
by prisoners, which are very pathetic. I read 
them with great interest. 

In the Bloody Tower, as it is called, the two 
young princes, the sons of Edward IV, are said 
to have been murdered by the direction of King 
Richard III. 

There is an entrance to the Tower of London 
from the Thames side of it, called the Traitor's 
Gate. State prisoners, many of them innocent, 
were formerly brought into it through this gate. 
We found the Tower very interesting, but some- 
what gruesome. After I came out of the Beau- 
champ Tower I felt positively sad. 

Over the fireplace in the Beauchamp Tower is 
an inscription signed "Arundel." This is the 
signature of Philip Howard, son of the Duke 
of Norfolk, whose father, grandfather and 
great grandfather were put to death, because 
they were faithful to the Catholic religion. 
Have you ever read Father Benson's book, "By 
What Authority?" It gives a vivid account of 
the time when Protestantism supplanted the old 
religion in England. 

The number put to death in the Tower and 
on Tower Hill is very great. Sir Thomas More, 
Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, Lady Jane 

70 



THE TOWER 

limn i 1 1 mit* " —Mi : tth,Mumr\wrmtitm 



Grey and her husband, and Lord Dudley, are 
among the more familiar names. Sir Walter 
Raleigh was confined here by order of Queen 
Elizabeth. Do you remember the scene in 
"Kenilworth" where Sir Walter reads to Her 
Majesty the verse which one Will Shakespeare 
had just written about her containing the pretty 
line "In maiden meditation, fancy free"? He 
read so well that day that it was a pity the queen 
put him in prison ; but she was ever a fickle, bad- 
tempered woman. 

When I saw the names of so many famous 
in history who were put to death within these 
walls, I remarked loud enough to be heard by 
those standing about, that the English in those 
early days didn't seem to have been any better 
than anybody else. A woman who heard me, 
snapped back, "No, and they are not any better 
now." 

Stationed around the grounds of the Tower 
are old soldiers who are called Beef-eaters. 
They looked well fed and are garbed in a most 
fantastic costume. Jack thought they were the 
most amusing sight about the place. 

I expect to read Ainsworth's "Tower of Lon- 
don" again, as now the book will have a new in- 
terest for me. 

From the Tower we drove to the British 
71 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



Museum. Jack said that while no doubt it was 
a great institution, at the same time he thought 
he would "flag" it and go over to Bond Street 
and leave an order for some clothes. Mrs. Law- 
lor, Alice and myself devoted the rest of the 
forenoon to the Museum. 

It is, I believe, the biggest thing of its kind 
in the world. We saw the famous Elgin mar- 
bles collected from the Parthenon in Athens, 
and brought here by Lord Elgin. 

There is an immense library connected with 
the Museum. Apollo, Jupiter, Venus and all 
the other gods and goddesses of pagan times are 
well represented. Then there is a room full of 
mummies. I felt sorry for these poor bodies. 
Just fancy being embalmed two thousand years 
ago, and to be still exhibited as curiosities! I 
think I would rather be 

"Imperial Caesar dead and turned to clay, 
To stop a hole to keep the wind away," 

than be a mummy. 

There is another room given over to a collec- 
tion of vases. The bronze ones are particularly 
beautiful. 

Jack got back just as wo were coming out of 
the Museum. We found a small hotel opposite 
called the "Thackeray." Jack said "That's 

72 



THE TOWER 



a name that listens good, and has a literary 
flavor, suppose we go in and have lunch?" Af- 
ter lunch, which was served by waitresses, Jack 
procured a carriage and we took a drive. We 
had only driven a few blocks when we heard a 
cheer, and a carriage passed quickly by. The 
King and Queen of England were in the car- 
riage and we missed seeing them. They had 
just arrived in London and were on their way to 
Buckingham Palace. 

We drove along Oxford Street, through Re- 
gent Street, and New and Old Bond Streets. 
These streets are filled with smart shops. We 
next came to Piccadilly, of which Locker-Lamp- 
son says: 

"By night or by day, whether noisy or stilly, 
Whatever my mood is, I love Piccadilly." 

Here I must tell you of a good joke which 
was on me. I told the driver that we would like 
to see the Piccadilly Circus, so he drove us there. 
I asked him where the circus was. "Right 
here," he replied. I looked around at the dif- 
ferent buildings, but could see no circus, and 
finally he explained to me that a circus in Lon- 
don was the spot where four or five streets meet ; 
so you see the difference between a circus in New 
York and one in London. 

On the way to Hyde Park we passed the 
73 



MARGARE TS TRAVELS 

1— — an— —mnmB^^i i^—— — — — 

homes of the wealthy, where the dukes and peers 
of England reside. No doubt they are very 
beautiful inside, but they are not exteriorly, I 
think, as fine as the Vanderbilt homes on Fifth 
Avenue. 

We got a view of Rotten Row, the famous 
bridle path, where England's aristocracy rides. 

Hyde Park is the principal park of the City 
of London. We were not allowed to drive 
through it, as we were in a hired carriage. It 
is more reserved than our Central Park. 

After our drive we dropped into the National 
Gallery, the principal picture gallery of Lon- 
don. There is a large and varied collection of 
pictures. It is much larger and more interest- 
ing than our own Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

The pictures are divided according to the dif- 
ferent schools of painters. We had no guide to 
show us about, but we managed to identify some 
of the important pictures by the aid of guide- 
books we had purchased. 

Perhaps the most famous picture is Raphael's 
Madonna degli Ansidei, which my guide-book 
tells me was bought from the Duke of Marl- 
borough for the sum of seventy thousand 
pounds, the largest amount ever paid for a pic- 
ture. 

We gave our attention principally to the Eng- 
74, 



THE TOWER 



lish painters, knowing that we would not have 
a chance to see their work again; while on the 
Continent we hoped to see the works of the early 
masters. 

There are numerous landscape pictures by 
Turner, who enriched this gallery with many of 
his paintings. There are also beautiful land- 
scapes by Claude and Constable, and a number 
of portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds. I was 
especially interested in seeing the portrait of 
Mrs. Siddons, by Gainsborough, which is so 
much copied. There is an example of the work 
of our own Gilbert Stuart, many portraits by 
George Romney, and paintings by Landseer, 
the great animal painter. 

Turner, the English painter, seems to have 
had the desire to surpass Claude, the old French 
landscape artist. Several of his paintings have 
been hung in the same room with those of 
Claude, according to his own wishes, so that peo- 
ple might judge who was the greater painter. 

It is strange, but it is a fact, that the work of 
the early painters wears better than work done 
in more recent years. They had some secret of 
mixing their paints, so that their canvases have 
come down to us through a number of centuries 
in very excellent condition. Some of the pic- 
tures by Sir Joshua Reynolds and one of Tur- 

75 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

ner's are much more faded than those of the old 
Italian masters. 

In the evening we took a walk along the 
Strand and saw a sight which you would hardly 
see in an American city. There was an open 
barroom, and standing at the bar, was a woman 
with a baby in her arms. That was rather 
shocking. 

The theatre district is quite brilliantly illu- 
minated, but they have not as many theatres nor 
are the illuminations so garish as along our 
Great White Way. They use our songs over 
here and adapt them to London. I believe it 
was Sydney Smith who asked sneeringly, "Who 
reads an American book?" If he were alive 
to-day he couldn't ask, "Who sings an American 
song?" They take our songs, but instead of 
singing of Herald Square, they change it to 
Leicester Square, and thus make an American 
song English. 

Jack and I on our way back to the hotel 
dropped into the Tivoli Music Hall, which is 
on the Strand. We saw quite an interesting 
vaudeville performance. There was a bar and 
bar-maids near where we sat, which rather added 
to the confusion and the noise, and thus de- 
tracted from the action on the stage. Then 
there was a young Englishman who kept repeat- 

76 



THE TOWER 



ing loud enough for everyone in his vicinity to 
hear him, "It is beastly hot here in London. I 
wish I had not left Trouville." Jack leaned 
over to me and said, "I'd be willing to pay his 
fare back." A man sitting next to Jack got 
tired of the oft-repeated desire of the young 
man to be in Trouville and said to Jack, "I be- 
lieve he is only spoofing." "Spoofing" was a 
new one for Jack, and he shook with laughter. 
For a nation that is credited with being so mas- 
culine, haven't the English rather feminine ex- 
pressions, for instance, "Really," "Well rather," 
and "My word." I cannot imagine Jack saying, 
"My word." His slang would have more of a 
Western breeziness about it. 

I believe the English take their Music Hall 
performances more seriously than we take ours. 
We only look for amusement, while, on this side 
of the water, the songs and monologues of the 
vaudevillians deal with politics and serious mat- 
ters, and thus make sentiment for or against a 
cause. 



77 



UP THE THAMES. 

To-day, Sunday, was beautiful and not so hot 
as a mid-summer day in New York. We had an 
early breakfast and climbed to the top of a bus 
and started for Westminster Cathedral. 

Westminster City, which adjoins London 
City, begins at Charing Cross, into which the 
Strand runs. 

We arrived at the Cathedral in time for the 
nine o'clock mass. It is an immense edifice in 
the early Christian Byzantine style of architec- 
ture and is crowned with a tall campanile. The 
interior is very spacious, and the high altar with 
its baldachinum is massive looking. There are a 
number of beautiful chapels. Cardinals Wise- 
man and Manning are buried in the crypt. 

After leaving the Cathedral we journeyed on 
to Brompton, and went into Brompton Oratory, 
where we were in time for the solemn mass. The 
church was crowded, and a very beautiful church 
it is, the finest modern example in London of 
the Italian Renaissance style. Cardinal New- 
man introduced the Fathers of the Oratory into 
England, and this church is called "The Ora- 
tory" after them. 

78 



UP THE THAMES 



The Victoria and Albert Memorial nearby 
is one of the largest buildings I have ever seen. 
London has some massive buildings. 

We drove through Brompton and Chelsea. 
They reminded me of the upper west side of 
New York City. Sir Thomas More lived at 
Chelsea, as did also Smollett, Dantey Gabriel 
Rossetti, Carlyle and Leigh Hunt. 

We came back to Westminster and had our 
lunch there. We afterwards took a walk and 
passed Buckingham Palace, the King's town 
residence. There were several big soldiers 
guarding the gates, and Jack asked one of them 
if the King were at home. The soldier nodded, 
but did not deign to speak. Jack, who likes a 
little joke, asked if visitors could see him that 
day. The soldier took Jack's question seriously, 
and giving him a look of withering contempt, 
sneeringly replied, "No visitors are ever al- 
lowed." Jack said, "Beg pardon," and hiding 
a smile joined us. 

We took a pleasant stroll through St. James* 
Park, and later we found a tally-ho which was 
bound for Hampton Court Palace. You have 
seen pictures of old stage coaches. The one that 
we were on seemed just like one of them. Jack 
and I mounted up next to the driver, and Jack 
slipped a little "siller" into his hand, as he in- 

79 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

tended to ask him questions on the way, so im- 
mediately they were on terms of great intimacy. 

Shortly after starting we came to a tavern. 
The driver pulled up his horses and beckoning 
to the footman, together they entered the tavern 
and remained there at least a quarter of an hour 
spending Jack's money. We had quite a laugh 
amongst ourselves. The rest of the passengers 
were very angry at the delay, but luckily they 
did not see Jack give the tip. The coachmen 
finally appeared and we started again. Jack 
laughs every time he thinks of the incident. It 
was funny to look through the window of the 
tavern and see those two coachmen standing at 
the bar addressing themselves leisurely to two 
large tankards of 'alf and 'alf, while the good 
people on the coach were fuming and fretting. 

We passed through several suburbs of Lon- 
don, one of them being Kew which is famous 
for its botanical gardens. Finally we arrived 
at Hampton Court. It was my first visit to a 
palace, the largest in England, and I found it 
delightful. It was built in 1615 by Cardinal 
Wolsey, and afterwards presented by him to 
King Henry VIII. It has long ceased to be 
a royal residence, and is now merely a show 
place. 

The garden behind the palace is filled with 
80 



UP THE THAMES 



beautiful beds of flowers, and there is a lake 
almost a mile long. On the north side of the 
palace is a maze which we did not attempt to 
enter. 

The walls of the palace are hung with beau- 
tiful paintings and tapestries, and we got our 
first view of royal dining-rooms and bed rooms. 

The Thames River flows along near the pal- 
ace, and we found that we could return to Lon- 
don by water. The sight on the river was beau- 
tiful. It is narrower than our own Harlem 
River, and was filled with a great number of 
row-boats, punts, canoes and houseboats, the 
latter decked out with lanterns and flowers. 
Londoners spend their week ends on these 
houseboats. It was a well-dressed crowd of peo- 
ple and very orderly. I don't know that I ever 
saw a prettier sight. 

We got on board a little steamboat and 
started down the river for London. At Ted- 
dington we passed into a lock. A number of 
small boats followed us and, when the lock was 
full of water, we glided gently into the river. 

We passed Twickenham. You may remem- 
ber the old song, "Twickenham Ferry." 
Twickenham is best known because it was the 
home of Alexander Pope, the English poet, 
who is buried there. There are numerous well- 

81 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

kept lawns coming down to the river's edge, 
and the scenery is pastoral and restful. Pope 
had a grotto near the Thames with three mir- 
rors in it, wherein he gazed at the reflection of 
the pleasure seekers on the river, while he him- 
self was invisible. Horace Walpole had a house 
on Strawberry Hill, which is just a little back 
from the Thames. Henry Fielding lived at 
Twickenham, as did Tennyson, so you see it has 
famous literary associations. 

The boat brought us to Richmond. It was 
then after seven o'clock, and we took the train 
back to London. It was nearly nine when we 
arrived. The embankment was crowded with 
thousands of people listening to a band concert. 
We lost no time in getting into the grill room 
of our hotel and ordering a substantial dinner. 
The waiter told Jack that the room was filled 
with Americans. It is wonderful how much one 
can see in a day. 



82 



LITERARY SHRINES. 

London, as you know, contains many literary 
shrines. Most English authors, if they were not 
born here, came at some period of their exis- 
tence to find lodgings in this great metropolis. 

Fleet Street, which adjoins the Strand on the 
east, is filled with memories of a literary past. 
Dr. Johnson looms up as the most famous char- 
acter connected with this street. He resided 
for some years at Gough Square near Fleet 
Street. It was while living here that he com- 
piled his dictionary, and was arrested because 
he was unable to pay a small debt. 

It seems to me that nearly all the old au- 
thors were arrested at some time on account of 
their inability to make sufficient money to pay 
for their daily bread and lodgings. You may 
remember the couplet, which says: 

"Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead, 
Through which the living Homer begged his bread." 

The geniuses lived too soon. If they were 
with us now the lines of their lives would prob- 
ably fall in more pleasant places. Modern au- 

83 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

thors, who are not geniuses, sell editions of fifty 
thousand copies of their books and wear purple 
and fine linen. 

The great Dr. Johnson on one occasion was 
sent for by Oliver Goldsmith, another denizen 
of Fleet Street, and when he arrived he found 
that the landlady had the author of "Sweet Au- 
burn" arrested for non-payment of rent. Gold- 
smith gave Johnson a new novel which he had 
finished, and the doctor took it out and sold it 
for sixty pounds. The novel was "The Vicar 
of Wakefield." Many of the old authors come 
down to us with the shadow of an inexorable 
landlady or a bailiff hovering over them. 

The Cheshire Cheese, a tavern frequented by 
Dr. Johnson, Goldsmith and Boswell, is still in 
existence in Wine Office Court, Fleet Street, 
and Baedeker names it as one of the London 
restaurants. 

The Temple, the famous law school on the 
south side of Fleet Street, and fronting with its 
gardens on the embankment, has many literary 
associations. Henry Fielding was a student 
there. Charles Lamb was born in the Temple. 
Thackeray had lodgings in it, and so had Praed, 
who wrote such fine vers de Societt. Shakes- 
peare's "Twelfth Night" was performed in the 
middle Temple Court, with Queen Elizabeth as 



LITERARY SHRINES 



a spectator. Oliver Goldsmith is buried at the 
side of the Temple Church which adjoins the 
Temple on the west. It was in the Temple 
Gardens, so Shakespeare tells us, that the red 
and white roses were gathered which became the 
badges of the Houses of York and Lancaster 
in the War of the Roses. In these gardens Ruth 
Pinch used to meet her brother, Tom, as you 
may remember from "Martin Chuzzlewit." 
Dickens's novels, of course, are full of London. 

Another spot that has many literary associa- 
tions is Charter House, originally a monastery 
of the Carthusian Monks. Here was the Char- 
ter House school which Crashaw, Richard Love- 
lace, Steel, Addison and Thackeray attended. 
The school has been removed, but the Home of 
the Poor Brethren remains. It was in this home 
that Colonel Newcome, who was once a scholar 
of the school, and then one of the poor brethren, 
answered, "Adsum," when he was dying. 

Thackeray could not have been very con- 
tented while he was at the Charter House, for he 
wrote to his mother, "There are three hundred 
and seventy in the school, and I wish there were 
only three hundred and sixty-nine." 

Between Bread and Friday streets in Cheap- 
side, which lies beyond St. Paul's, was formerly 
the Mermaid Tavern, frequented by Shakes- 

85 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



peare, Spencer, Beaumont, Fletcher and Ben 
Johnson. Robert Herrick was born in Cheap- 
side and Keats resided in it for a time. 

How I would like to have a week in which 
to wander about London and get acquainted 
with more of the places famous for being the 
homes or haunts of the great English writers. 

We paid a visit to St. Paul's Cathedral, which 
was built by Sir Christopher Wren, who seems 
to have done most of the building in "this neck 
of the woods." 

St. Paul's is certainly a great big church. I 
believe it is five hundred feet in length. It has 
a whispering gallery, wherein the slightest whis- 
per can be heard over one hundred feet away. 
You may remember that the same thing takes 
place in the Capitol of Washington. Don't you 
recollect when the guide placed us in one part 
under the dome, and then went behind our backs 
about thirty feet and whispered, and the whis- 
pering sounded like loud talking? 

Among the notable people buried in St. 
Paul's Cathedral are Nelson, the hero of Tra- 
falgar, Wellington, the conqueror of Napoleon, 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Vandyck and Turner, the 
famous painters, and Sir Arthur Sullivan, who 
wrote the music of "Pinafore." 

St Paul's on the outside has a very sooty ap- 
86 



LITERARY SHRINES 



pearance, rather like the public buildings of 
Chicago. Pardon the comparison. A great 
part of the money that built St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral came from a tax on coal, so it is said that 
the church has a reason for its black drapery. 

Beyond St. Paul's is Cheapside, where is sit- 
uated the Church of St. Mary-le-Bow. Anyone 
who is born within the sound of its bells is called 
a Cockney. Cheapside runs into the Poultry. 
What funny names they have for streets in 
London. 

The Bank of England, called "the old lady 
of Threadneedle Street," and the Mansion 
House, the official residence of the Lord Mayor, 
are opposite each other. Running off from 
Cheapside are two streets with rather strange 
names, one is Bread Street, where Milton was 
born, and the other is Milk Street. 

We have been out to the East End of Lon- 
don. The streets of Whitechapel are mean, but 
not nearly so crowded as those of our own East 
Side. Tfre 'bus driver pointed out a house in 
which Jack the Ripper committed one of his ter- 
rible murders. 

The Costers are dressed very much as you 
have seen them on the stage in vaudeville, only, 
of course, not quite so exaggerated. The hats 
the women wore were certainly wonderful crea- 

87 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

tions. The men do not wear collars, but little 
scarfs or tippets around the neck, and their 
trousers bell out over their shoes in sailor 
fashion. 

We wandered around amongst the crowds for 
a while, and then hailed a passing 'bus and came 
back to our hotel. 



88 



SOME ENGLISH PECULIARITIES. 

We have been down to Greenwich where the 
Royal Observatory is, and where "time" is regu- 
lated. We sailed down the Thames under 
Blackfriars Bridge and London Bridge, pass- 
ing Billingsgate, the famous fish market, the 
denizens of which were notorious for their rude 
language called "billingsgate." 

We sailed on under Tower Bridge, the newest 
and most pretentious of the bridges across the 
Thames. At Greenwich, besides visiting the 
Royal Observatory, we went through the Royal 
Naval College, where the hero of Trafalgar is 
much commemorated. 

Beyond Greenwich is Blackheath, where 
Nathaniel Hawthorne once resided. 

On our way back we drove along the Surrey 
side of the river through Southwark, which I re- 
member is rather dull looking as viewed from 
across the Thames. The driver pointed out sev- 
eral places of interest, St. Saviour's Church, 
Lambeth Palace, the residence of the Protes- 
tant Archbishop of Canterbury, and the exten- 
sive brewery of Barclay Perkins & Company. 

89 



SOME ENGLISH PECULIARITIES 

compared with the great structures that span 
the East River between New York and Brook- 
lyn. London has taken to itself the Thames, 
as New York could not possibly take the East 
River or the Hudson River, which are too big 
to become intimate parts of our Metropolis. 
It was the sight of London in the early morning 
light from Westminster Bridge that suggested 
to Wordsworth his much-admired sonnet, that 
ends with the lines: 

"Dear God! the very houses seem asleep, 
And all that mighty heart is lying still !" 

London is the land of "Beg pardon." You 
get it on all sides. Every time you ask an inno- 
cent question, it is hurled at you so suddenly 
that sometimes it makes you jump. 

If you say to the waiter, "Bring me a cup of 
tea," he replies, "Beg pardon! a cup of tea?" 
It is very polite, but they lose a lot of time. 
Apropos of tea, it is the national beverage. I 
believe they drink a lot of tea in Ireland, so 
much, in fact, that many cases of lunacy are 
ascribed to this habit. I think the English drink 
a great deal more. I mind me now that the 
great Dr. Johnson used to drink fifty cups of 
tea a day. Wherever you travel in the suburbs 
of London, there are tea houses. Tea costs a 

91 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

shilling a cup in the restaurants. Rather 
dear, I fancy, for a country where money is 
none too plentiful. Coffee, also, is a shilling 
a cup. 

In Ireland, and, I suppose, here, too, the 
dining room has the sign "Coffee Room" over 
the door. But if you ask for a cup of coffee, 
the waiter will tell you that they don't serve cof- 
fee there, but in the lobby of the hotel. I won- 
der why they call it a "coffee room"? 

Another national institution of Great Britain 
is marmalade. They offer you marmalade with 
as much unction as if it were terrapin. If you 
tell the waiter you won't have any marmalade, 
he asks in a shocked way, "Beg pardon! no mar- 
malade?" 

Another thing that I think is confined to the 
British Isles is the custom of walking and driv- 
ing on the left side. We keep to the right, and 
I believe they do on the Continent, but the Eng- 
lish veer to the left. 

The bar-maid is an especially English insti- 
tution. I stepped into the reading room of the 
Hotel Cecil yesterday, and, as I did so, I caught 
a view of the bar, where a young woman was dis- 
pensing drinks to several men. It does seem a 
strange position for a woman, still, I am told, 
they are treated with a great deal of respect. 

92 



SOME ENGLISH PECULIARITIES 



A man may beat his wife over here, but not in- 
sult a bar-maid. 

There is more regard for human life in Lon- 
don than with us. To-day a man was killed near 
the Bank of England by an automobile, and 
all the newspapers are making a great time 
about it. Such an occurrence with us would get 
no more than a passing comment. 

I have been much disappointed since I came 
to London, because I have seen no fogs. I have 
heard so much about the big fogs of London 
that I think I would like the experience of being 
lost in one. We have had sunshine and bright 
skies every day. The fogs, I believe, do not be- 
gin until about October and end at the begin- 
ning of the good old summer time. 

London has a great advantage over the city 
of New York, because it is the capital of Eng- 
land, and, therefore, has not only its own munic- 
ipal buildings, but also the national ones. If 
New York City were the capital of the United 
States, you can readily see it would be a much 
greater town than it is. 

I think they advertise here more than we do 
at home. The omnibuses are covered with ad- 
vertisements, and in the subway and railway 
stations, there is one vast panorama of "Bovril." 

To-morrow we leave for Paris. We have 
93 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



made up our minds to push on to Rome. The 
trip will have to be a very hurried one, as our 
time is limited. They say over here that Ameri- 
cans travel too fast and, therefore, cannot give 
the proper time and attention to the interesting 
objects that are to be seen. This, no doubt, is 
true, but still we are determined to reach Rome. 



m 



LA VILLE-LUMIERE. 

We are in the capital of France. You have 
often heard it said that "good Americans, when 
they die, go to Paris." We left London this 
morning on an early train. I would have liked 
to have dropped off for a day at Canterbury 
to see its beautiful cathedral, which in early 
days was the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, and 
the scene of Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales." 
The itinerary that we have planned made it im- 
possible for us to spend a day there. 

Dover is a town built on chalk cliffs and is 
a watering place. When the English Channel 
is rough, many people remain at its hotels un- 
til the water grows calmer. We found the sea a 
bit "narsty," but none of us suffered from sea- 
sickness. 

Do you know what was the most prominent 
object that met our view at Calais? "Heinz — 
57 Varieties!" 

It took only two hours to cross the Channel, 
95 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

but what a change in passing from one nation 
to another. 

We found the train to Paris awaiting us, so 
we had no chance to roam about Calais. Before 
the train started the guard took note of the pas- 
sengers who wished to have dinner. We were 
hungry after imbibing so much fresh air cross- 
ing the Channel, and declared that we wanted 
dinner very badly. A few minutes later the train 
pulled out from the station. French trains gen- 
erally do go fast, and this one certainly did. 
Along the route there were signs telling us to 
read the "New York Herald." 

We arrived at Gare du Nord at five o'clock. 
Of course, we had to go through the inevitable 
custom house, but I must say that the custom- 
house officers weren't half bad. We were soon 
in a taxicab, swinging along the crowded boule- 
vards, and at the Avenue de l'Opera got a 
glimpse of the famous Opera House, which the 
'driver pointed out to us. We then came through 
the Rue de la Paix, where Worth, Paquin, Dou- 
cet and the other famous dressmakers have their 
shops. Then we entered the Place Vendome, 
in the centre of which there is a very high col- 
umn in honor of Napoleon I, the metal of which 
was obtained by melting down twelve hundred 
Russian and Austrian cannons. Finally we ar- 

96 



LA VILLE-LUMIERE 



rived at the Hotel Continental, which was, I 
learn, in earlier days a monastery of the Capu- 
chin Friars. 

It began to rain while we were at dinner and 
continued during the evening, a soft, summer 
rain which did not prevent us from going out 
of doors. I like to be out in the streets of a big 
city when it is raining. Things have a different 
aspect. 

The Tuileries Gardens are opposite the Ho- 
tel Continental. The Palace of the Tuileries, 
which was destroyed by the Commune in 1871, 
formerly stood there. It was built by Catherine 
de Medici, and derived its aristocratic name 
from the tile-kilns that were there before the 
palace was built. It was occupied by different 
French sovereigns, among whom were Napo- 
leon I and Napoleon III. 

It seems a pity that people cannot get up a 
revolution without destroying palaces and art 
treasures. I do wish that the Communards had 
not placed barrels of gun powder in the rooms 
of this old palace and blown it to pieces. I was 
so disappointed in getting here too late to see it 
in its glory. 

From the Gardens of the Tuileries we went 
on a voyage of discovery, and landed in the most 
beautiful square in the world, the Place de la 

97 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



Concorde. Where Broadway meets Fifth Av- 
enue at Twenty-third Street has always struck 
me as one of the finest squares we have, but it 
does not compare with the Place de la Concorde. 
In early days it was called the Place de la Revo- 
lution, and the guillotine was there set up. Char- 
lotte Corday and Marie Antoinette were both 
beheaded in this square. In the middle of it 
is an obelisk which was taken from the Temple 
of Luxor, rather a finer one than we have in 
Central Park. It is flanked by a beautiful 
fountain on each side. 

There are seven stone figures in the Place de 
la Concorde symbolic of as many towns of 
France. The one representing Strasburg, 
which was lost by France to Germany, when the 
Germans annexed Alsace-Lorraine, is always 
hung with mourning garlands, showing that 
France has not forgotten. 

From the centre of the square, we could look 
down the Rue Royale and see the Madeleine, 
the Church of St. Mary Magdalen. 

We wandered on a little further to the west, 
and came to the Champs-Elysees, from which 
a grand avenue leads to the Arc de Triomphe. 
Having discovered so much on our first evening 
in Paris, we felt contented and returned to the 
hotel. 



LA VILLE-LUMIERE 



We could hear the soldiers beating drums in 
the Garden of the Tuileries as a warning to all 
who were there to vacate them. This is done 
every evening. 



99 



BOULEVARDS. 

We were up early this morning, and after 
breakfast, which was served in our rooms, as is 
the custom here, we attended mass at the Made- 
leine. This handsome church was built by Na- 
poleon I, who intended it for a temple of glory. 
It has, as you know, from pictures you have 
seen of it, a colonnade of big Corinthian col- 
umns. The bronze doors with illustrations of 
the Ten Commandments are most beautiful. 
Over the high altar there is a massive marble 
group, representing Mary Magdalen being car- 
ried into Paradise by two angels. 

The boulevards begin at the Madeleine, where 
there is a pretty flower market. We climbed 
up to the top of a 'bus, and rode along them. 
The Boulevard de la Madeleine leads to the 
Boulevard des Capucines. Further on is the 
famous and fashionable Boulevard des Italiens, 
which is the very centre of all the boulevards. 
The Boulevard Montmartre is succeeded by the 
Boulevard Poissonniere, which, I suppose you 
know, means fish. Further on we passed the 
triumphal arch called Porte St. Denis, and an- 

100 



BOULEVARDS 



other arch, Porte St. Martin, and the Place de 
la Republic. We went as far as the Place de la 
Bastille. Here formerly stood the Bastille. 

I will now confess to you a piece of ignorance. 
I thought that the Bastille still existed as a ruin, 
and I enquired of a gendarme where it was. He 
very kindly explained to me that it was utterly 
destroyed, and, in its place, there is the Column 
of July. 

From the Place de la Bastille we found that 
we could get a 'bus to the Cemetery of Pere La- 
chaise, which I was anxious to visit. This ceme- 
tery is named after a Jesuit, who was con- 
fessor to Louis XIV. It is an extensive ceme- 
tery, and we wandered in it for several hours. 
We found monuments to Rossini and Alfred 
de Musset. After considerable hunting around, 
we came to the graves of Abelard and Heloise. 
This tomb, with the exception of Napoleon's, is 
visited by more people than any other in Paris. 
Rosa Bonheur, the famous painter of animals, 
is buried close by. 

We saw the tombs of many who are world 
famous. Cherubini, the composer, Moliere, Al- 
phonse Daudet, Robert Planquette, the author 
of the "Chimes of Normandy," Balzac, and 
many others well known in art and literature. 

We passed a funeral while on our way to 
101 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



Pere-Lachaise, and we noticed that men on the 
sidewalks raised their hats as the hearse went 
by. That seems a good Christian custom, 
doesn't it? 

We had wandered so much through the ceme- 
tery that we were a little tired, and after lunch 
rested at the hotel. This evening we procured 
a carriage and drove out to the famous park 
called the Bois de Boulogne, passing under the 
Arc de Triomphe, the largest triumphal arch in 
the world. It was erected by Napoleon I to 
commemorate his victories. 

The driver showed us the home of the former 
Countess Castellane, nee Anna Gould. It is 
modeled after the Petit Trianon, the villa of 
Marie Antoinette at Versailles. 

We had a long and pleasant drive through 
the Bois, going as far as the race course at 
Longchamps. 

The driver pointed out to us across the Seine 
the little town of St. Cloud, and also the town 
of Sevres, where the famous porcelain is made. 

The Bois contains several celebrated restau- 
rants. We chose the Pavilion de Armenonville, 
in preference to the others, because of its fine- 
sounding name. It looked like a jewelled cha- 
teau set in the dark woods. 

We are certainly having a good time. If Alice 
102 



BOULEVARDS 



and myself were travelling alone, we would 
hardly dine at such an expensive restaurant, but 
Jack and his mother insist on taking us every- 
where. Jack spends his money most lavishly. 
They are very wealthy, as Mrs. Lawlor's hus- 
band was a part owner of a gold and silver mine 
in Virginia City, Nevada, and when he died this 
property came into the possession of Mrs. Law- 
lor and Jack. 

A dinner in one of these restaurants in the 
Bois, is, if anything, more expensive than a din- 
ner in a New York restaurant. The food and 
service are of the best. This al fresco style of 
dining in a brilliant cafe with a background of 
woods is just about as pleasant an experience 
as I have ever had. 

After a day of sight-seeing we were weary, 
and when one's head aches from the innumerable 
things one has seen, it is certainly idyllic to feast 
in such pastoral surroundings. Shakespeare 
makes one of his characters s&y, "I am a man 
whose meat nourishes me," and I must say that 
we all ate as if our meat nourished us. The 
restaurant was quite crowded, carriages arriv- 
ing every moment, until finally the late comers 
had to wait before they could be served. 

When we finished dinner, we drove back 
through the Bois, and found the boulevards 

103 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



filled with people. They looked like one long 
chain of restaurants. In some places half of the 
avenue is taken up with people dining. They 
all seemed very merry and evidently are great 
conversationalists. 

Thousands of pedestrians walked leisurely 
along, chatting, seeing the sights, or watching 
the diners. It is the liveliest scene I have ever 
witnessed. When it bursts suddenly upon you, 
you imagine that the city must be en fete, but 
it is this way all summer, until the real cold 
weather drives the boulevardiers indoors. It 
seemed to be a happy, easy-going throng of peo- 
ple, but I suppose if the occasion required it, 
they could be whipped up suddenly into another 
revolution. 



104 



THE LOUVRE. 

[We have been to the Louvre. It takes its 
name from Louvrie, which was the rendezvous 
of wolf-hunters. The Louvre is the greatest 
picture gallery in the world. It has not the 
number of old masters that the Vatican posses- 
ses, but it is the most brilliant of all the galleries. 

You have read some of Perrault's fairy tales, 
"Sleeping Beauty," "Cinderella," and others. 
This Dr. Perrault was the architect of a consid- 
erable portion of this great palace. There are 
so many rooms in it that it would take one two 
hours to walk through them. Even an Ameri- 
can couldn't do it in less. 

I saw so many pictures in one morning that 
my head was swimming. What a world of cul- 
ture this gallery opens up to one! It reminds 
me of the song that says, "You don't know how 
much you have to know in order to know how 
little you know." 

Of course, I could never give you a descrip- 
tion of half the treasures of the Louvre, so I 
will content myself with mentioning a few. We 
were wandering along from one room to an- 

105 



MARGARET'S TRA VELS 

other, when suddenly in the distance at the end 
of a salon, we beheld the most celebrated treas- 
ure of the Louvre, the marble lady, a copy of 
whom you have often seen, the famous Venus 
de Milo. We came upon it so suddenly and so 
unexpectedly that I really felt like "some far- 
off watcher of the sky when a new planet SAvims 
into his ken." This beautiful statue was dis- 
covered in 1820 by a peasant in the Island of 
Melos, now called Milo. It is supposed to be 
the work of the second century before the 
Christian era. 

Among the pictures in the Louvre, perhaps 
the most celebrated one, is Leonardo da Vinci's 
"Mona Lisa." This is a portrait of the wife of 
the painter's friend. It is called "La Giocon- 
da," after her husband's name. Da Vinci is 
credited with having worked four years on this 
picture. Volumes have been written on her 
smile and its meaning. 

In one room the guide pointed out a thing 
which one is likely to meet with occasionally 
in picture galleries, and which is offensive to 
one's religious sense. He showed us where 
Leonardo da Vinci had used the same model 
for St. John the Baptist as he did for Bacchus. 
I found out later that it was not certain that 
Leonardo da Vinci painted the St. John. 

106 



THE LOUVRE 



Another very famous picture is Murillo's 
"Immaculate Conception." There are eighteen 
large paintings by Rubens of Marie de Medici. 
It must have been the Rubens gallery to which 
an American lady in the hotel last night re- 
ferred when she was speaking of the Louvre. 
She said, "I do not want to see any more paint- 
ings by Rubens, for I have seen miles and miles 
of them." 

It would be impossible to name the many 
beautiful and famous paintings or even the ones 
that the guide calls important. One picture of 
a face I noticed seemed to have little beads for 
tears. I called the attention of the guide to it, 
and said I thought it was not artistic work. He 
was surprised himself and stepped to the side of 
the picture. He then called me to look at it 
sidewise and I saw that the beads had disap- 
peared. The artist had worked so cunningly 
that the painted tears stood out like beads on 
the face. 

We went to the Luxembourg Gallery, but 
unfortunately it was closed. This gallery con- 
tains the paintings of contemporary artists. 

We took a stroll in the Luxembourg Gardens. 
This is a Renaissance garden, my guide-book 
informs me. A band was playing, and there 
were a great many people scattered about. In 

107 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

one place a crowd had collected, and when we 
arrived there, we found that a number of mid- 
dle-aged and old men were playing croquet. In 
Paris the race for wealth is not so acute or so 
strenuous as it is with us. Over here after a 
man has attained a competence, he is likely to 
invest it and take life easy. You can scarcely 
imagine a number of men playing croquet in 
the park of an American city. I am sure there 
must be fewer cases of neurasthenia here than 
at home. 

After we came out of the gardens we took a 
walk along the Seine. There are many second- 
hand book stalls on the quays. Students from 
the Quartier Latin, book-lovers, and an occa- 
sional priest were examining the books. Do 
you remember the lines supposed to have been 
addressed by the keeper of a book stall to one 
who frequently came to thumb his books, but not 
to purchase? 

" You sir, you never buy a book, 
Therefore in one you shall not look. 

I suppose the owners of these stands do on oc- 
casions use such harsh words to impecunious 
book-lovers. 

Little steamers ply up and down the Seine, 
and we took a sail in one of them. The Seine 

108 



THE LOUVRE 



is not a very broad river, and a sail on it gives 
one charming views of Paris. I don't believe 
any city in the world has two such fine rivers 
as we have in New York. When you travel a 
little, you wake up to this fact. 

Parisian anglers fish in the Seine, but the fish 
they catch are very microscopic. 

Under the bridges of the river a flourishing 
business is done by those who clip little poodle 
dogs, shave 'longshoremen, and refill hair mat- 
tresses. Don't understand me to mean that they 
shave 'longshoremen and then refill mattresses. 

Jack got tickets for "Aida," which is to be 
sung this evening at the Opera House, and he 
and I are going. 



109 



THE OPERA HOUSE 

The Paris Opera House is a massive and no- 
ble building. It is the largest theatre in the 
world, though it does not possess the largest 
seating capacity. My guide-book informs me 
that there is hardly a variety of marble or costly 
stone which has not been used in its construction. 

I have heard "Aida" better sung in New 
York than it was sung last night. We get the 
best singers that Europe produces, as we can 
afford to pay them higher salaries. 

Between the acts we wandered out into what 
is called the grand staircase. It certainly is an 
elaborate piece of work, with its marble steps 
and marble columns. It would need a king and 
queen and their entourage to do it justice, so 
magnificent is its appearance. There is a log- 
gia where we walked between the acts and 
looked out on the Place de l'Opera and saw the 
boulevardiers sipping their cool drinks at the 
Cafe de la Paix. 

To-day we visited Napoleon's tomb. The 
Bridge of Alexander III, called the Golden 
Bridge, and the handsomest bridge across the 
Seine, leads to the Hotel des Invalides, founded 

110 



THE OPERA HOUSE 



by Louis XIV. This hospital can accommo- 
date seven thousand, but, I believe, at present, 
there are about fifty soldiers in it. Part of it 
is used as an army museum. In the crypt of 
the church, called the Dome des Invalides, is the 
tomb of Napoleon. The sarcophagus which 
contains his body was made out of a single block 
of porphyry. On the pavement the names of 
Napoleon's famous battles are inscribed. The 
crypt is surrounded by colossal figures repre- 
senting his victories. 

The bodies of Joseph Bonaparte and Jerome 
Bonaparte are buried in chapels in the crypt. 
It is the handsomest tomb in the world, and 
when you stand by it, you feel yourself stirred 
with emotion at the recollection of the wonder- 
ful deeds of the Little Corporal. 

Not far from the Hotel des Invalides is the 
Champ-de-Mars, the place where the Paris ex- 
positions were held. Nearby is the Eiffel 
Tower, which is nine hundred and eighty-four 
feet in height. The tower on the Metropolitan 
Life Insurance Company building in New York 
is more than seven hundred feet. The Metro- 
politan tower, however, is more wonderful, be- 
cause it is built of stone, whereas the Eiffel 
Tower is a skeleton structure of iron. We did 
not attempt to mount to the top of it. 

Ill 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

Opposite the Eiffel Tower is the Palace of the 
Trocadero, constructed for the exposition of 
1878. It has a terrace in front, below which 
there is a cascade of water flowing into an im- 
mense basin. The Trocadero is now used as a 
museum. 

We have had a chance to drop into a few more 
churches. Just around the corner from our 
hotel is the Church of St. Roch in the Rue St. 
Honore. We attended a solemn mass of re- 
quiem, which was sung for the repose of the 
souls of the soldiers who fell in the Franco- 
Prussian War. There were quite a number of 
people present and the music was impressive. 
St. Roch has the reputation of having fine music. 

The interior of the church is in the baroque 
style of architecture. That is a new one for me. 
It is the style of architecture that came in after 
the Renaissance, and its defect is over-orna- 
mentation. 

Corneille, the great French tragic dramatist, 
is buried here. The pillars of the church still 
show the marks from Napoleon's cannon when 
he fired at the Royalists in 1795. 

We visited also the Church of St. Augustine 
on the Boulevard Malesherbes, which is one of 
the fine streets of Paris. It is a modern church, 
and of course everything in it is new and fresh. 

112 



THE OPERA HOUSE 



A little guide-book, which I came across, tells 
me "that St. Augustine's shows on the outside 
as well as on the inside the richness of this 
parish." 

We journeyed up the hill of Montmartre by- 
means of a little cable tram car to pay a visit to 
the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, which crowns 
Montmartre. It would be an imposing church 
anywhere, but becomes more so on account of 
its position overlooking Paris. It is constructed 
in the Romanesque-Byzantine style of architec- 
ture and has a large dome and clock tower. It 
has been a very costly structure, and is not yet 
completed. 

A view of Paris from the hill on which the 
church is built, called Butte Montmartre, is very 
interesting. It is here on this hill that St. Denis, 
the first bishop of Paris, suffered martyrdom 
in the year 270. This fact is supposed to have 
given it its name, the Mount of Martyrs. 

Montmartre is rather a dingy section of Paris 
with rough cobbled stone streets. We did not 
get an opportunity to visit the cemetery of 
Montmartre, nor to see the two medieval wind- 
mills, which still remain standing. 

Besides visiting churches we have done a lit- 
tle shopping. We have been in the Bon Marche 
and in the Grand Magasins du Louvre. They 

113 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

are large establishments, but they seem to sell 
a great deal of rather cheap stuff. You would 
not be as much impressed with them as with some 
of our own big department stores, as they have 
not as dignified an appearance. The small 
shops in the Rue de la Paix are very expensive. 

I tried to buy a little silver knife in one of 
them, and the price the clerk asked was out- 
rageous. I told him I could get it much 
cheaper in Tiffany's in New York. He said 
he didn't doubt that I could, but that Tiffany 
carried a much inferior grade of goods to theirs. 
He said if I would step down the street into 
Tiffany's, I would probably get a cheaper knife. 
I did so, and found what I wanted at a reason- 
able figure. I mentioned at Tiffany's what the 
clerk in the other store had said. They admitted 
that probably it was true, as Tiffany's were not 
knife sellers, but jewellers. Precious stones are 
cheaper in Paris than in New York, so the clerk 
informed us, but ornaments in gold are cheaper 
at home, because gold is more plentiful in the 
United States than in Europe. 

You may remember seeing the statement that 
certain New York stores have branches in Paris, 
of which they make a great display. When you 
come to look for them in Paris you find that 
these branch stores are very small affairs. 

114 



THE OPERA HOUSE 



We have been in Paquin's, and Mrs. Lawlor 
left an order for a gown, which will be finished 
by the time she returns to Paris. 

We were talking to an American dressmaker 
at the hotel the other evening. She told us that 
an American dressmaker will go into one of the 
large establishments, bringing with her a young 
French girl, who has the ability to draw. The 
dressmaker looks over the models, and the young 
French girl watches them closely and after- 
wards from memory makes sketches of them. 
Of course, she wouldn't be allowed to make a 
drawing of them while looking at the models. 

These establishments, on St. Catharine's Day, 
give a dinner and dance to their employees. On 
that occasion the girl whose age is nearest to 
twenty-five is adorned with a bonnet which 
indicates that she is an old maid. Naturally, 
there is considerable hiding of ages, and the one 
who gets the bonnet is apt to be nearer fifty 
than twenty-five. 

The girls in these dressmaking establishments 
work hard during the busy season. I see them 
at eight o'clock in the morning, from my window, 
which is opposite a dressmaker's. I meet them in 
the streets in the evening about eight o'clock 
going home from work. A long day, isn't it? 



115 



QUARTIER LATIN. 

We have been over to the Quartier Latin, 
where we spent the whole day. In starting out, 
Jack said to me, with a laugh, "Be sure you 
don't take any more bad money." He referred 
to the fact that yesterday several counterfeit 
pieces of silver were given to me in change. 

The Seine has two islands in it, one called the 
Isle de la Cite, and the other the Isle St. Louis. 
The Cite is the oldest part of Paris, and its most 
important structure is the Cathedral of Notre- 
Dame. The facade of the church is remarkable, 
and is adorned with many statues of our Lord, 
of the Blessed Virgin and of different saints. 
The ancient stained glass windows are note- 
worthy, and the rose window especially is mag- 
nificent. The art of making these windows was 
lost in the fourteenth century, and ever since 
that time stained glass windows have not been 
made so beautiful. Whenever it has been nec- 
essary to repair one of these old windows you 
can detect the difference in the glass. 

The sacristan brought us into the sacristy of 
the church, which contains many interesting 

116 



QUARTIER LATIN 



relics. We saw what tradition says is the crown 
of thorns, a nail from the cross and a fragment 
of the true cross. He also exhibited the corona- 
tion robes of Napoleon I, and the blood-stained 
robes of three Archbishops of Paris who were 
put to death at different times by an excited 
populace. 

We made our way up into the tower and had 
a glorious view of Paris. All along the tower 
are most terrible looking gargoyles. They seem 
like things that might appear to you in a dream 
after you had eaten a Welsh-rarebit. 

From Notre-Dame we went to the Palace of 
Justice, another ancient building, adorned with 
an immense clock, which is said to be the oldest 
public clock in France. 

The Palace of Justice contains the courts of 
law and the Sainte-Chapelle. This chapel was 
erected in 1245 during the reign of St. Louis, 
and it formerly contained the sacred relics which 
are now kept at Notre-Dame. 

The mass of the Holy Ghost is celebrated 
once a year on the opening of the courts, and 
is the only religious service held here. This 
chapel is considered to be the most perfect 
specimen of Gothic architecture in France, and, 
with its ancient stained glass windows, it has a 
loveliness which is indescribable. We came upon 

117 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



it so suddenly and so unexpectedly that its 
charm and beauty transfixed us with admira- 
tion. 

Another old building in this part of Paris is 
the Hotel-Dieu, the oldest hospital in Paris. 
We did not enter it, as we did not feel in the 
humor just then of visiting a hospital. 

The Boulevard St. Michel, called the Boul. 
St. Mich, by the students, is the principal street 
of the Quartier Latin, and it is famous as the 
residential section of the students of Paris. In 
the thirteenth century Robert de Sorbon, con- 
fessor of St. Louis, founded a hostel for theo- 
logical students who were poor, and it rapidly 
became a great seat of learning. In the seven- 
teenth century Cardinal Richelieu erected on 
this site the Sorbonne, but since then it has been 
rebuilt and added to in modern times until it 
has become an immense structure, and is now 
called the University of Paris. The church of 
the Sorbonne is the only part of the original 
building that is left. 

I bought a small picture of a very striking 
painting which hangs in this church. The title of 
the painting is "For Humanity — For the Fa- 
therland." It shows our Lord dead on the cross, 
and at the foot of the cross a soldier fallen from 
his horse and lying dead. You see the meaning. 

118 



r 




QUARTIER LATIN 



Our Lord died for humanity, and the soldier 
for his country. It is painted by an artist named 
Weerts. 

From the Sorbonne we went to the Pantheon. 
This building was first dedicated to St. Gene- 
vieve, but it has been since converted into the 
Pantheon. It occupies the site of the tomb of 
St. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris. It is 
in the form of a Greek cross, with an immense 
dome, and is a magnificent structure. In front 
of it there is a figure in bronze called "The 
Thinker," by Rodin. The interior is embel- 
lished with many beautiful paintings. Those 
depicting scenes in the life of St. Genevieve by 
Puvis de Chavannes strike one as examples of 
the Art Nouveau. 

The guide brought us down to the vaults 
which contain the tombs of Rousseau, Voltaire, 
Victor Hugo, Zola and other great and irre- 
ligious Frenchmen. When we arrived at the en- 
trance to the vaults, the guide divided the sight- 
seers into groups, saying, "Those who speak 
French will go to the right, and those who speak 
English, together with those who speak Ameri- 
can, will come with me to the left." Naturally 
there was a suppressed giggle at this piece of in- 
formation. 

After we finished the Pantheon we went to 
119 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

the Church of St. Etienne-du-Mont nearby. 
The interior of this church is accounted one of 
the finest in Paris. Its architecture is rather 
different from any that I have ever seen and 
is wonderfully beautiful. In one of the chapels 
we came upon the tomb of St. Genevieve, where 
some articles of devotion which we had pur- 
chased in the vestibule of the church were blessed 
for us. 

This a very old and quaint part of Paris. The 
driver of our carriage pointed out to us some 
ornaments on the houses which showed their an- 
tiquity, and caused him to laugh, but unfortu- 
nately I could not understand French enough 
to know what he was talking about. It is pro- 
voking when you are travelling not to know a 
language well. Before you come to Europe 
brush up your French. 

On our way back we drove by the Institut de 
France. The Academie Francaise, which is a 
part of the Institut, has forty members, who are 
called the "Immortals," and it is, as you know, 
a great honor to be one of them. 

Further on, we came to the Seminary of St. 
Sulpice, which is the home of the Sulpician 
Fathers. Unfortunately we did not have time 
to visit the Church of St. Sulpice, which is very 
handsome. 

120 



QUAXtTIER LATIN 



■ aMMBMlWMM Hd l 



When we are travelling about, Jack finds 
some difficulty in getting cigars. Tobacco here 
is a government monopoly, so that may account 
for it. He says this is a funny town. It has 
three hair-dressing establishments for every 
cigar store. 

We were all very tired when we returned to 
the hotel, and so we did not venture forth this 
evening. It is rather aggravating after you 
have spent the day in visiting objects of interest 
to find out when you return to your hotel that 
other people have visited these same places and 
have seen things which you missed. I am so 
interested I do not want to lose the sight of 
anything. 



121 



FONTAINEBLEAU. 

To-day we had a most delightful trip to Fon- 
tainebleau. We missed the train and had to wait 
nearly an hour for another. While we were 
standing outside of the Gare de Lyon, looking 
to find a place where we could pass the time 
until the next train started, a French woman 
came up to us and said, "If you speak slowly, 
I will tell you where the place is to which you 
wish to go." I asked her where the Cemetery 
of Petit Picpus was. She blushed and an- 
swered, "I am sorry, but I do not know where 
it is." 

We hailed a tram car and rode through streets 
we had never been in before. There was a bal- 
loon and an air-ship encircling the city, and these 
engaged our attention. 

The journey to Fontainebleau is a pleasant 
one. Just opposite the palace we found a hotel 
and had our lunch in the garden. When Jack re- 
ceived the bill there was a charge of one franc 
a person for the "couvert," which is practically a 
charge for setting the table. 

Fontainebleau is a palace of the Renaissance 
122 



FONTAINEBLEAU 



period. In feudal times castles were built as 
strongholds, but, when the kings became more 
powerful and there was less danger of invasion 
from the feudal lords, palaces were built with 
a view to beauty and convenience rather than 
to solidity. 

As far back as the twelfth century, there was 
a chateau on the site where the palace now 
stands. St. Louis lived in it, and its chapel was 
consecrated by St. Thomas a Becket, so you see 
it is quite ancient. The present palace was be- 
gun by Francis I and was completed by Louis 
XIII. 

The chapel, which we visited first, was the 
scene of the marriage of Louis XV and of the 
baptism of Napoleon III. 

From the chapel we were conducted to the 
apartments of Napoleon I, with whom Fontaine- 
bleau is much associated. It was at Fontaine- 
bleau that he divorced Josephine, signed his ab- 
dication, and afterwards reviewed the grenadiers 
from whom he had parted a hundred days before, 
when he went into exile at Elba. 

After seeing the relics of Napoleon we went 
to the rooms of Marie Antoinette, which consist 
of her boudoir, bedroom and music room. We 
saw also the apartment which was occupied by 
Pope Pius VII when he was held as a prisoner 

12a 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

here by Napoleon; and the rooms of Catharine 
'de Medici and of Anne of Austria, the mother 
of Louis XV. 

The most richly decorated hall in the palace is 
the Salle des Fetes, or, as it is now called, the 
Gallery of Henry II, which, my guide-hook 
tells me, was the favorite abode of Empress 
Eugenie. 

From the palace windows we got a charming 
view of the gardens and the lake. After our 
visit to the palace Jack procured a carriage and 
we drove through the Forest of Fontainebleau. 
It is fifty miles in circumference, so, of course, 
we did not drive through it all. It is a beautiful 
woodland country, and on its borders is the lit- 
tle town of Barbizon, which was the home of the 
famous painters Rousseau and Millet. 

Altogether we were delighted with our trip to 
Fontainebleau, as it gave us a day in the coun- 
try, which was very restful after all the sight- 
seeing we had done in Paris. 

To-morrow morning at nine o'clock we start 
for Switzerland. Oh, you Alps! That is not 
slang. It is an apostrophe. 



124 



LUCERNE. 

We arrived in Switzerland last evening from 
Paris and are stopping at the Schweizerhof 
'Hotel, overlooking the beautiful Lake of Lu- 
cerne. There are large crowds at the hotels as 
this is the "high season." I do wish I had a week 
or two to spend among these everlasting moun- 
tains, but we must be on our way. 

We have bought circular tickets which will 
bring us back from Rome through Monte Carlo, 
Nice and Marseilles to Paris. 

While riding in the train I passed the time 
pleasantly reading Baedeker. He gives most 
important advice to those who intend to do 
mountain climbing. He says, to prevent the 
feet from blistering during a protracted walk, 
they may be rubbed morning and evening with 
brandy and tallow, or a warm foot bath with 
bran will be found soothing after a long day's 
march. Glaciers should be traversed in the 
morning as early as possible before the sun 
softens the crust of ice formed during the 
night over the crevices. How delighted I would 
be if I could only traverse a glacier, and, with 

125 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

my trusted alpen-stock, pursue my way to the 
very topmost point of these snow-covered moun- 
tains ! 

My guide-book warns the traveller against 
sleeping in chalets. "Whatever poetry there 
may be theoretically in a fragrant bed of hay, 
the cold night air piercing many apertures, the 
ringing of the cow bells, and the grunting of the 
pigs, can hardly conduce to a refreshing slum- 
ber." I agree with Mr. Baedeker. Whatever 
else I do in Switzerland, I won't sleep in a 
chalet. 

Lake Lucerne is considered one of the most 
beautiful in Europe. It is called the "Lake of 
Four Forest Cantons," and also the "Vierwald- 
statter See," and is twenty-three miles long, al- 
most as long as its name, forming an irregular 
cross between the mountains. 

Lucerne is as sweet and picturesque a town 
as one could wish to see, and is situated on the 
border of the lake. It is a most restful spot for 
tired trippers. It is quite cool here in the morn- 
ing and in the evening, and it was a great delight 
this morning when I looked out of my window 
to see far above me the snow on the mountain 
tops. Alice and I took a walk before breakfast ; 
the air was clear and crisp and my coat felt 
very comfortable. 

126 



LUCERNE 



The shops here are the equal of the finest 
shops I saw in Paris. In fact, the jewelry 
shops are so gorgeously brilliant that one with 
a limited pocketbook would be afraid to enter 
them. 

The hotels are very prettily situated on the 
lake, and we heard a splendid band playing last 
night. The Swiss are the greatest hotel people 
in Europe. Not only do they run the hotels in 
Switzerland, but, I am told, they conduct to a 
very great extent those in France and Italy. 
Ritz, who founded the famous Ritz Hotels, was 
a Swiss. 

We dropped into a church on our walk. A 
priest was saying mass behind a grill, the first 
time I have ever seen this. 

The River Reuss, which divides the town, 
empties into the lake, and is crossed by a num- 
ber of bridges. Two of these were built many 
centuries ago and run across the river obliquely 
and not straight, as all other bridges do which 
I have seen. They both have roofs. One is 
called the Kapell-Brucke, and its roof is painted 
with pictures of St. Leodegar and St. Maure- 
tius. The other bridge farther up the stream 
is called the Spreuer-Brucke, and pictures called 
the Dance of Death embellish it. It was rather 
dark when we strolled over these bridges last 

127 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

evening, so we could not see the pictures very 
distinctly. 

There is an old light-house, not used now, 
near where the Reuss empties into the lake, 
which was called in Latin "Lucerna," from 
which the name of the town is supposed to have 
been derived. 

We did not get into the Hofkirche, which is 
the Church of St. Leodegar, Lucerne's patron 
saint, and which has attained some fame on ac- 
count of its organ recitals. 

The massive Lion of Lucerne, which is hewn 
out of the sandstone rock, is one of the sights of 
the town. It was made after a model of Thor- 
waldsen, and commemorates the Swiss Guard 
who fell defending the Tuileries in 1792. Mod- 
els of it in wood are for sale in the shops. Or- 
naments in wood are common souvenirs here. 

There was a copy of "Tartarin of the Alps" 
in English lying on the table in the hotel parlor 
last evening, and I read the first chapter aloud 
to the others. It tells of Tartarin's first appear- 
ance in the Alps, when he climbs up the Rigi 
with an ice-axe, alp en-stock, knapsack and coil 
of rope, accoutred for an ascent of the Jung- 
frau or Mount Blanc rather than for a climb 
of the Rigi, which is reached easily by a funicular 
railway. It seemed that what I read amused 

128 



LUCERNE 



Jack very much, and after we had retired for 
the night, he went to the hotel office and began 
to inquire about mountain climbing and the 
things necessary for the work. The humor of 
the thing appealed to him so strongly that when 
he appeared this morning for breakfast, he was 
fully apparelled for mountain climbing. The 
manager of the hotel was a mountain climber, 
and loaned Jack all the implements necessary 
for an ascent of the Jungfrau. 

When we came back from our walk this morn- 
ing, we beheld a big muscular young man 
dressed in a gray Norfolk jacket, gray golf 
trousers and leggings, and carrying on his back 
an ice axe and a coil of rope, while he held an 
alpen-stock in his hand. A green felt hat com- 
pleted the picture. Of course it was Jack. At 
the sight of him I laughed so loud that I at- 
tracted the attention of several guests, who were 
not long in sizing up the situation and appre- 
ciating the joke. When Mrs. Lawlor came 
down from her room and caught sight of her 
son she did not seem pleased. "You surely are 
not going out in that costume?" she protested 
to Jack. "I surely am. I'll make these Alpine 
folks sit up and take notice." 

After breakfast we started in to get some in- 
formation relative to climbing the mountains. 

129 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



There are two here that are accessible, the Rigi 
and Pilatus. As we only had one day to remain, 
we chose the ascent of Pilatus because it is the 
loftier of the two. 

We took the Brunig Railway from Lucerne 
to a little village called Alpnachstad. Here we 
alighted and found a car on the funicular rail- 
way waiting for us. This is my second experi- 
ence in funicular railways. There is one, as you 
know, at Mount Washington in the White 
Mountains on which I have ridden. 

The ascent to Mount Pilatus is very steep. 
At times it gives you a shiver. At the terminus 
of the road, there is a hotel called Pilatus Kulm. 
From here we started on a walk of over half 
an hour to the top of the mountain. As we 
passed along we saw snow a little below us that 
had remained there since last winter. We could 
hear the tinkling of the bells on the cattle graz- 
ing on the mountain slopes. It is a glorious sight 
when you reach the top. All about and above us 
we could see the clouds rolling down from higher 
snow-clad mountains. When the clouds would 
disappear and the sun burst forth then the snow 
and ice would shine radiantly and beautifully 
in the golden sunlight. It must be a wonderful 
undertaking to climb the highest mountains in 
the Alps ! We spent about an hour viewing the 

130 



LUCERNE 

mountains and looking down upon Lake Lu- 
cerne some thousands of feet below. The differ- 
ent views of the lake are charming. We had a 
chat with a gentleman who had walked up in the 
morning to the top of Mount Pilatus. 

We began to feel rather chilly and made our 
way back to the hotel, where hot soup was very 
satisfying after the cold air on the mountain 
top. When we got back to Alpnachstad, we 
found a boat there and returned to Lucerne 
over the lake, stopping at a number of villages 
on the way and picking up tourists at every 
place. 

We certainly had a glorious day. If the 
"loud laugh speaks the vacant mind," I have a 
very vacant mind. Jack's costume was a source 
of continual merriment. Wherever we went 
he was the "cynosure of many eyes." All 
along the way people stopped to look at him. 
Some opened their eyes in amazement while 
others giggled. Jack kept a sober face all day. 
When we came back to the hotel in the even- 
ing a great crowd was assembled and a band was 
playing. As soon as Jack came in sight the 
crowd became interested, and some one must 
have spoken to the band leader, for when we ar- 
rived on the lawn in front of the hotel, the band 
struck up a triumphant march and the people 

131 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

assembled about applauded. When Mrs. Law- 
lor realized what was taking place she refused 
to go any further, and sat down on a nearby 
bench. We stayed with her but Jack was not 
at all abashed. He marched boldly up to the 
entrance of the hotel while the band played and 
the guests cheered. When things had quieted 
down we followed Jack into the hotel. We cer- 
tainly did enjoy ourselves this day. 

I almost forgot to mention that the southern 
arm of Lake Lucerne, called Lake Uri, is closely 
identified with the legend of William Tell, 
whom Schiller has immortalized. Some German 
authority, I believe, has now proved that Wil- 
liam Tell never existed, but that does not go in 
Switzerland. 

To-morrow we leave here for the Italian 
Lakes. The railroad which goes through St. 
Gotthard Pass will bring us into many tunnels 
which, no doubt, will be rather disagreeable. We 
are not, however, appalled at the thought of any 
inconvenience, because "beyond the Alps lies 
Italy." 



132 



COMO. 

o 



We are stopping at the Hotel Plinius. Do 
you notice the Latin flavor of its name? Como 
is the birthplace of the elder Pliny and Pliny jr., 
two famous Romans who lived in the begin- 
ning of the Christian era. They were not Chris- 
tians themselves, but statues have been erected 
to them at the sides of the portal of the cathe- 
dral, and the hotel is called after them, for Como 
is very proud of her two great sons. 

Alessandro Volta, the great electrician, was 
also born here. Of course, in America we think 
that Edison discovered electricity and knows 
more about it than all the rest of the world, but 
they have different ideas in Como. The word 
"volt," if you stop to think, is derived from the 
name Volta. 

I don't know that we exactly enjoyed our ex- 
perience coming through St. Gotthard's tunnel 
and the others, but it was not so bad as I had 
expected. The St. Gotthard's tunnel is a cir- 
cular one that not only runs through the moun- 
tain but up into it, so that after you come out 

133 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

on the other side, you are on the top of the 
mountain. Fresh air is supplied through this 
particular tunnel by some means, so we did 
not suffer any great inconvenience. Some of 
the other tunnels were much more sooty. It 
requires two -engines to drag the cars through 
these tunnelsJ"- Occasionally an engine breaks 
down, and it may take half an hour to repair 
it; this was our experience. You can imagine 
how disagreeable it is to be stalled in a moun- 
tain tunnel for half an hour with the fumes 
from the engine rilling your lungs. A little 
incident happened while we were thus de- 
layed which is rather pleasant for an American 
to record. After we had been stalled for about 
a quarter of an hour, the thick atmosphere nat- 
urally caused some suffering, and a number of 
people were complaining and getting nervous. 
There was an occasional shout by a conductor, a 
hurrying of feet, and other little indications of 
trouble. In one of the cars there was a party of 
Americans. Just as the delay was getting on 
everybody's nerves, a chorus of voices in the 
smoke-laden atmosphere sang out gaily, "John 
Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave." 
Everybody laughed, the trainmen applauded, 
and fear and nervousness disappeared. 

The trip across the Alps when we were not in 
134 



- COMO 

tunnels was most delightful. We were up 
among the glaciers and snow-capped mountains, 
in the peace and quiet of the high Alps. It must 
be a great pleasure to come over these moun- 
tains in a carriage. We passed several parties 
travelling that way. Of course, it takes a little 
longer, but one gets a chance to view the sce- 
nery much better. One does not have to hurry 
so rapidly past the deep gorges, the brawling 
streams, the pleasant mountain slopes, the sun- 
lit meadows, the picturesque chalets, and the 
thousand things of beauty which every turn in 
the road brings to view. 

Florence, you and I will come over here some 
time, and we will spend days, I hope, when 
now a few hours must suffice. We both have 
had the experience of leaving New York snow 
bound, and the next day passing below the snow 
line, through Savannah, Jacksonville and St. 
Augustine, to the semi-tropical seashore at Palm 
Beach, and it has been a most delightful change; 
but the trip down the Alps is more novel, be- 
cause it is more sudden. In a few hours you 
have come from the region of perpetual snow 
and frosty air to vineyards and gardens, hot 
sunshine and the soft summer winds of the 
southland. It is a great change, and you are 
among a new people. The men are dressed in 

135 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

greenish suits with green Alpine hats, the same 
as they are across the Alps, but they are Italian 
in appearance and speak Italian. These are the 
Italian Swiss. 

We passed through Bellinzona and Lugano, 
which latter town is prettily situated on Lake 
Lugano, one of the Italian lakes. Our next 
stop was at Chiasso, which is the last Swiss vil- 
lage before one enters Italy. There is a cus- 
tom-house here. Of course, we had to leave the 
train and wait for half an hour while the Ital- 
ian customhouse inspectors examined our bag- 
gage to see if we were trying to smuggle any- 
thing contraband into Italy. 

After we left Chiasso we went through an- 
other tunnel and finally arrived at the town of 
Como on the south end of Lake Como. This 
is an old Roman town and has an ancient look 
about it. We visited the marble cathedral, which 
is a great edifice. I did not expect to find such 
a splendid cathedral in a little town like this. 

The funicular railroad makes a thread of light 
at night up the side of the mountain, from the 
top of which the view, I understand, by day- 
light is very beautiful. 

It would be hard to say which is the loveliest 
of the three great lakes, Maggiore, Lugano or 
Como. There are different opinions, though I 

136 



CQMO 

think the majority favor Como. The old Ro- 
mans called this lake, Lacus Larius, and Virgil 
wrote of its beauty. It certainly has a charm 
all its own. 

I can readily understand why Italians should 
be artistic in their tastes and produce such beau- 
tiful coloring in their pictures. The scenery of 
Lake Como is an inspiration. I just don't know 
anything I have ever seen that is more pictur- 
esque. Lake Lucerne, surrounded by snow- 
capped mountains, wind swept and brilliant in 
the sunshine, is a majestic sight, but Lake 
Como, lying snugly at the foothills of the Alps, 
is bewitchingly beautiful. It is enclosed by high 
mountains, and its shores are dotted with pretty 
villages. The pink, white and blue houses, with 
green backgrounds of foliage, the charming 
villas on the slopes of the hills, the campaniles 
of the churches, the fishermen drying their nets 
on the shore, the little children playing in boats, 
and the roses running riot over the walls, pro- 
duce pictures in one's mind that will be a joy 
forever. Longfellow has thus recorded the 
charm of this beautiful lake: 

"No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks 
The silence of the summer day 
As by the loveliest of all lakes, 
I while the idle hours away." 

187 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 



We certainly did enjoy the sail we had on 
the lake. At the little town of Cernobbio is the 
Villa d'Este, which is now a hotel. In the be- 
ginning of the last century the unfortunate 
Caroline, wife of George IV of England, lived 
in it. 

We intended to get off at Bellagio, but by an 
error we left the steamer at Cadenabbia. Jack 
hired a boatman to row us over the lake to Bel- 
lagio, but after we had consulted a little while 
we concluded we did not have time, so we con- 
tented ourselves by remaining at Cadenabbia, 
though it was hard to give up a nearer view of 
Bellagio nestling along the shore of the lake and 
protected by a promontory that serves as a 
beautiful background. Both Bellagio and Ca- 
denabbia are filled with English and Ameri- 
cans. These two places have long been the re- 
sort of English tourists. Not so many come 
now as formerly, and I believe the automobile 
is the reason for this falling off. Englishmen 
now buy a motor car and take their families mo- 
toring instead of spending their money on a trip 
to the Italian lakes. Bellagio and Cade- 
nabbia are restful spots for a summer vacation. 

At Bellagio, Lake Como separates, the east- 
ern part of it becoming Lake Lecco. It was 
in the town of Lecco on this lake that Man- 

138 



COMO 



BatJMHiSA>'!'SaM«»2H3EB3S i iStfrSHKI 



zoni laid the plot of "I Promessi Sposi," his 
novel which has been translated into English 
under the name of the "Betrothed." This story- 
made Manzoni so famous that when he died he 
received in Milan a public funeral, for which 
Verdi composed his now famous requiem. 

After we had taken lunch at the hotel, which 
was filled with English people, we made a visit 
to the Villa Carlotta, which is the property 
of the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. This villa 
contains sculptures by Canova and Thorwald- 
sen. In the middle hall near the entrance is 
Canova's well-known Cupid and Psyche, and 
the walls of this hall are covered with Thor- 
waldsen's reliefs, entitled the "Triumphs of 
Alexander," showing his entry into Babylon. 
There are other pieces of sculpture by Canova. 

The guide brought us out into a pretty gar- 
den adjoining the villa, where we saw many 
tropical plants that we had never seen before 
and a trellis walk of linden trees. It was a very 
beautiful garden, and I can readily believe, as 
it is said, that the nightingales have chosen it for 
their nests. 

Shortly after our visit to the villa, the steam- 
boat returned from Bellagio, and we got on 
board for Como. Italian people have a peculiar 
way of bidding each other good-bye. I noticed 

139 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

4 

it this morning on our way from Como. Instead 
of waving the hand as a farewell they pull the 
fingers of the hand towards themselves. They 
certainly can express a lot of affection by this 
movement of their finger tips. All along the 
lake we were amused and interested watching 
the farewell salutes of mothers to their children, 
of friends to friends, of fiance to fiancee. When 
the boat stopped at one of the villages Jack 
disappeared, and when we next saw him he was 
standing on the quay, and, after attracting our 
attention, he and I bid each other many fare- 
wells in the Italian fashion. 

It is hard to leave Lake Como with its night- 
ingales, its moonlight, and its pleasant summer 
evenings, but there are so many things we wish 
to see that we must unwillingly tear ourselves 
away. Having seen Lake Como I understand 
better the verse of Byron : 

"Italia! O Italia! thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beauty !" 

Upon our return to the hotel we had to get 
ready immediately to catch the train for Milan. 



-10 




o 
o 

D 
Q 






MILAN. 

To use Jack's expressive language, "we blew 
into this town" last night about seven o'clock. 
It was after business hours, and the quiet streets 
reminded me of the silence of our own in the 
financial district at evening time. 

This is a smart-looking city. I met a young 
American girl here who said she was disappoint- 
ed in finding the people in Europe so up to date. 
She expected that they would be more old-fash- 
ioned and archaic. "Of course," she confided to 
me, "everything they know they learned from 
us." Isn't that delightfully American? We are 
credited on this side of the water with just such 
sentiments. 

The first place we visited this morning was, as 
you may guess, the grand Gothic cathedral, 
which is built of white marble and has in the 
neighborhood of two thousand life-sized statues 
on its exterior walls. We heard an early mass in 
the crypt of the cathedral, which was celebrated 
over the body of St. Charles Borromeo, which 

141 



M ARGARET'S TRAVELS 

— ^ — — 

is enclosed in a silver sarcophagus. After mass 
the sacristan allowed us to come up to the altar 
and view the body of the saint. 

Afterwards we walked up the spiral staircase 
to the roof. I can assure you it is a most tire- 
some climb, but when we reached the top we were 
rewarded with a magnificent view of the city of 
Milan with its tile-covered houses, of the sur- 
rounding country, and of the distant Alps. The 
roof of the cathedral serves as a picnic ground 
for the Italian peasantry. They come in from 
the country, make the ascent to the top of the 
cathedral and then eat their dinner there. We 
saw a number of families dining in this al fresco 
fashion. 

Within the cathedral itself is a statue of St. 
Bartholomew who was flayed alive. He is rep- 
resented with the skin of his body hanging over 
his shoulder. It does not make a very beautiful 
statue, as you may imagine. Some sculptors are 
very anxious to show their anatomical knowl- 
edge. 

I drifted into the cathedral just before din- 
ner this evening. The sunlight was pouring in 
a golden flood through a window, and the cathe- 
dral was radiantly beautiful. I was so glad that 
I chanced in just then. It seems to me that in 
such visits one catches better the beauty of 

142 



MILAN 

|M— I— MM M WWHHI I M HI II MMBIW III H I ■■ ■— — ^^"^ 

things. The first time you go, you see so much 
that the mind becomes fatigued and much of the 
loveliness is lost. In little casual visits you are 
apt suddenly to realize the charm which before 
had escaped you. 

Opposite the cathedral is the Galleria Vittorio 
Emanuele, the finest arcade I have ever seen. 
The roof is of glass, so that it is as lightsome as 
the street in the daytime. It is in the shape of 
a cross and is filled with shops and restaurants. 

It happened last evening as we were out tak- 
ing a walk that it began to rain very hard, and 
we fled for shelter to the Galleria and spent half 
an hour very pleasantly looking into the shop 
windows. The place was crowded with a great 
number of people walking up and down and 
chatting, and the shops and restaurants seemed 
to be doing a good business. 

We visited to-day the Theatre La Scala, 
built in 1778. I thought it somewhat dingy. 
One of the attaches brought us through the thea- 
tre and behind the scenes. The stage is very 
large. He made some remark about the size 
of the theatre and Jack took him up and said 
he thought that the Metropolitan Opera House 
in New York was larger. The man turned to 
Jack with a little bow and replied that he had 
said that La Scala was the largest opera house 

143 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



in Europe. Jack being thus sat upon didn't 
venture any more opinions. 

Each opera box has a lady's room attached, 
where "my lady" can put the finishing touches 
to her toilet. The furnishings of these boxes and 
little rooms are rather old and shabby. 

Everything in this town seems to radiate from 
the cathedral, or the "Duomo," as it is called. 
All the trolley cars start from in front of the 
cathedral, and it is the centre of the city's life. 

Next to the Duomo the most interesting 
church we saw was that of St. Ambrose, founded 
in the fourth century, but the present structure 
is of the twelfth. St. Ambrose baptized St. 
Augustine in the first church erected here. In 
the crypt are the remains of St. Ambrose and 
of SS. Gervase and Protase. It was in this 
church that the Lombard kings received the iron 
crown. 

In the refectory of the monastery belonging 
to the Church of St. Maria della Grazie is Leo- 
nardo da Vinci's famous picture of the "Last 
Supper." The painting is on the wall, and on 
one occasion, when soldiers were encamped here 
they cut a door through the middle of the wall, 
thus marring the beauty of the painting. Of 
course, time has dealt roughly with this cele- 
brated picture and the beaut}' of the coloring has 

144 



MILAN 

been to a great extent destroyed. I believe it has 
been touched up many times. 

From Milan we took a trip to Monza, where 
King Humbert was killed by an anarchist, and 
where there is a royal palace which is not in use 
and which was closed. 

We engaged a carriage for a drive through 
a park, but as it was uninteresting we soon grew 
tired and came back to Milan. 

To-morrow we start for beautiful Venice, 
"the revel of the earth, the masque of Italy." 



145 



VENICE. 

On our way from Milan to Venice we came 
through the city of Verona, made famous by 
Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." 

This is the town, as you no doubt know, 
where the Montagues and Capulets lived. 

Later we passed through Padua, the city of 
St. Anthony and of the learned Portia. 

I was a little disappointed on entering Ven- 
ice. We ran into a railway station, as we would 
have done in any city. I expected something 
different. For a moment I thought it wasn't 
Venice, but we were soon assured that we had 
arrived at Venezia. 

While on the train Jack had been selecting a 
hotel from the list given by Baedeker, and he 
concluded that we would stop at the Hotel 
Royal Danieli, which was formerly an old pal- 
ace. When we announced where we were going 
to stay, several porters gathered about us, took 
our valises and escorted us into a black gondola. 
We had to wait a little while before they were 
able to get our trunks, during which time we 

146 



VENICE 

were amused by the excitement and shouts of the 
gondoliers. Finally we got under way, the gon- 
doliers standing up, one in the front and the 
other in the back of the boat, pushing it along 
very dexterously. Whenever they came to a 
corner, one of them shouted out to warn any 
other gondolier who might be coming the oppo- 
site way. 

We shot along through a number of watery 
streets until we came to a halt at the side of the 
hotel, which is right on the water's edge. We 
were ushered into the office, which didn't look 
so much like an office as it did like a room in an 
ancient palace. 

It is quite the cutest-looking hotel I have ever 
stopped at. It is situated on the Riva degli 
Schiavoni, overlooking the lagoon. I call it 
"cute," because I don't know whether it is Ro- 
manesque, Byzantine or Gothic, so "cute" is such 
a safe word to use. It certainly has an Oriental 
flavor. I am awfully sorry that I brought so 
much ignorance with me to Europe. I hope 
some day to be able to state the difference be- 
tween Romanesque, Byzantine, Gothic and Re- 
naissance styles of architecture. 

While we were waiting to be assigned to our 
rooms, I noticed Jack laughing, and when I 
inquired the cause, Jack replied, "What do you 

147 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



know about my 'Lady Nicotine?' " and directed 
my eyes to a young woman who was sitting in 
a corner of the room quietly smoking a cigarette. 
She didn't seem to attract any attention. Mrs. 
Lawlor was shocked. She had never seen a 
woman smoke before. For that matter I never 
did either, though I had heard such things were 
not uncommon in English women's clubs and 
on the Continent. 

This hotel is situated in about the busiest part 
of Venice, and we have pleasant rooms look- 
ing out on the lagoon. 

The first place we visited, which is quite near 
our hotel, was the Cathedral of St. Mark on the 
Piazza of St. Mark. How shall I describe this 
magnificent church? Its exterior in brilliant 
mosaics is like what you might expect to find 
in the rich interior of some grand cathedral. 
Owing to the fact that the Venetians were a 
commercial race and great travellers in the East, 
it is natural that there should be a touch of Ori- 
ental splendor in their architecture. Though 
there is a mixture of styles in its construction, 
the whole edifice is harmonious. It has five en- 
trances on the side facing the piazza. One of 
the mosaics on the facade portrays the fact that 
the body of St. Mark was smuggled from the 
Turks through their custom-house between two 

148 



VENICE 

pieces of pork. The Turks consider pork un- 
clean meat, and they, therefore, did not exam- 
ine it. 

Over the principal entrance are the ancient 

bronze horses which Napoleon I took to France, 
and which were afterwards restored to Venice. 
A marble balcony extends along the front of the 
church, and above it are other beautiful mosaics, 
so you may imagine it is a glorious facade. The 
central doorway is supported by marble col- 
umns like the others, and over it is a beautiful 
mosaic of the Last Judgment. 

There are no paintings in the interior of St. 
Mark's. All the pictures are mosaics, and the 
pavement, too, is made of marble mosaics now 
somewhat worn and uneven. The interior has 
been described as "a golden cavern encrusted 
with precious stones, at once splendid and som- 
bre, sparkling and mysterious." Behind the 
high altar is another altar which has four ala- 
baster columns, two of which belonged to Solo- 
mon's temple. The high altar is over the tomb 
of St. Mark, and has a wonderful canopy of 
Verde Antico. 

We fed the pigeons in front of the church. 
Little bags of corn are for sale, and when you 
scatter the corn, the birds fly over to you. They 
are very tame and will rest on your hand while 

149 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 



eating. These pigeons have been fed on this 
piazza for upwards of seven hundred years. Of 
course, I don't mean that they are the same 
pigeons. 

On the piazzetta, which is next to the piazza 
of St. Mark, is the Palace of the Doges, founded 
in the ninth century. This palace contains many 
beautiful paintings by Titian, Paul Veronese, 
Tintoretto and others. One painting by Tin- 
toretto called "Paradise" is the largest oil paint- 
ing in the world. The exterior is a pointed ar- 
cade or loggia of Gothic design. The Giants' 
Staircase, leading from the courtyard to the pal- 
ace, is richly decorated and takes its name from 
the colossal statues of Mars and Neptune, which 
are the work of Sansovino. 

The Palace of the Doges connects with the 
Ponte dei Sospiri, the Bridge of Sighs, over 
which condemned prisoners went from the Pal- 
ace of the Doges to the prison. Do you remem- 
ber the opening lines of the fourth canto in 
"Childe Harold?" 

"I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs; 
A palace and a prison on each hand, 
I saw from out the wave her structures rise 
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand." 

The guide showed us a hole in the wall 
150 



VENICE 

I IIII MI I 1 M IIII HH II II I llll Illl I ■! Ill III II i ll I llllllll Mf flimiMirw irw — Tim 

through which he said the head of one who was 
executed was thrown into the canal. 

Near the lagoon are two columns, on one of 
which is the winged lion of St. Mark, and on the 
other a figure of St. Theodore on the back of 
a crocodile. 

We got into a gondola and crossed the Grand 
Canal to the Church of Santa Maria della Sa- 
lute. This church was erected in the early part 
of the seventeenth century as a memorial after 
an awful plague. It is a splendid church, and 
on the high altar there is a marble group depict- 
ing the Blessed Virgin driving away the plague. 

From here the gondoliers took us to a little 
island in the Lagoon, called the Isle of St. 
George, where we visited the Church of St. 
Giorgio Maggiore. Among a number of things 
which are noteworthy in the interior of this 
church are the choir stalls. These are made of 
wood, hand carved, and the handsomest I have 
ever seen. They certainly were grand artificers 
during the Renaissance. 

While on the Grand Canal, the gondolier 
pointed out to us the palace in which Robert 
Browning died, and the house of Desdemona, 
who met such an untimely death at the hands of 
Othello. 

We visited another church later in the day, 
151 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

but I don't recollect the name of it. It also had 
what were once beautiful choir stalls, but the 
fine carving was cut and scratched. Our guide 
told us that it was the custom in early days to 
allow the people to sit in these stalls, and chil- 
dren, and perhaps grown-up vandals, had greatly 
marred the beauty of the splendid carving. 

There is one reason why I shall always regret 
not having come to Venice before July 14, 1902, 
for, on that date, the famous Campanile fell to 
the ground. Workmen are engaged, at present, 
in building a new one. 

We visited one of the famous glass factories, 
in which we saw some beautiful designs in glass 
mosaics. 

Yesterday afternoon, a little tired of sight- 
seeing, we were recommended to take a trip to 
the Lido. We got on a small steamboat which 
took us over the Lagoon, where we found a trol- 
ley car. This brought us across a small stretch 
of country to the Lido, which term means a 
sand hill. It is situated on the Adriatic Sea 
and is the Coney Island of Venice, minus the 
side shows. The beach was crowded with bath- 
ers, and Jack and I had our first dip in the 
Adriatic. The water was delightful and sharp- 
ened our appetites. After our bath we had 
about as tasty a lunch at one of the restaurants 

152 



VENICE 

n~^ IIHIIIMIIIIIIIH— — J-II'WIII'I—IHII" "I" ■I—IMMTW1 " 

as I ever ate. We spent the rest of the after- 
noon on the shore of the Adriatic filling our 
lungs with the salt air of the briny deep, and 
returned in the evening much refreshed. 



153 



THE LAGOON AND THE GRAND 
CANAL. 

While in Milan Jack got talking with the 
hotel clerk about Venice, and the clerk told him 
that while Venice was pretty, it was not a good 
place for people to live who were troubled with 
indigestion. The reason he gave was that there 
was not sufficient space for walking, and so one 
did not get enough exercise. I suppose there 
might be something in that, but I know I will 
leave here with regret. If I could I would stay 
longer and take a chance on the indigestion. 

I would like to spend my mornings in the cool 
churches and art galleries, my afternoons 
at the Lido, and my evenings on the Grand 
Canal and on the Lagoon, and thus "fleet the 
time merrily as they do in the golden world." 

I wish I could describe to you the unique 
beauty of Venice at sunset and under the silver 
moon. One feels its artistic loveliness, but one 
is not able to catch it and transfer it to paper. 
I have often heard a song at an opera, and on 
my way home I could hum the tune to myself, 
and yet I was utterly unable to hold the air 
if I sang it out loud. I feel the same way about 

154 



Q D 




o 

X 
Z, 

o 

X 

o 

o 
© 



L AGOON AND GRAND CANAL 

Venice. Beautiful vistas strike me at every 
turn, but to paint their beauty in words quite 
escapes me. 

Last evening we hired a gondola and passed 
the time on the Lagoon. Singers with fairly 
good voices entertain at different places on small 
barges hung with lanterns. Our gondolier 
rowed us around to hear all of them. We were 
regaled with selections from the operas and other 
tuneful Italian songs. The most popular air, 
if one is to judge from the applause of the gon- 
doliers, is the "Toreador" song from "Carmen." 
The gondolas are drawn up closely to the per- 
formers, and the singing sounds sweetly on the 
water. Gondolas are coming and going all the 
time. After you have heard the repetoire of 
one company and given up a number of small 
coins, your gondolier disentangles his boat and 
goes to where another company of performers 
are entertaining. Thus you can spend a pleas- 
ant evening, lying off on the cushions of your 
gondola and listening to tuneful melodies. And 
how beautiful the scene is ! The moonbeams fall 
softly over Venice and silver the majestic dome 
of Santa Maria della Salute across the Grand 
Canal. In the distance the tower of the Church 
of St. George stands out against the sky, the 
wraith of a gondola glides along, and the quiet 

155 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

lagoon stretches out everywhere. I think I 
could lie back on the cushions and drift on under 
the light of the silvery moon in languorous re- 
pose "forever and a day." 

After we came back from the lagoon we went 
to Florian's, the oldest cafe in Europe, and 
sipped cold drinks and watched the crowds. 

This afternoon, when we were out sightseeing, 
we noticed a painter sketching the Rialto, the 
famous bridge, which is now occupied by little 
shops. I wonder how often that beautiful arch 
has been painted! 

We visited the market, which was filled with 
fresh vegetables and delicious peaches, quite as 
good as any I ever tasted. I have eaten fresh 
figs, but somehow I do not seem to acquire a 
taste for them. When we arrived at the market 
an old man caught our gondola with a hook and 
held it for us to alight. Jack gave him some 
copper coins. Whenever your gondola is 
brought to a stop at the side of the canal, there 
is sure to be some one with a hook to hold it, 
so that you can alight in safety. 

Speaking of gondolas, reminds me to tell you 
that they are all painted black. It seems this is 
because of an unbroken custom or law. At one 
time they were all colors and very beautiful, but 
this caused so much rivalry and such a waste 

156 



LAGOON AND GRAND CANAL 



of money, that a law was made or a custom grew 
up fixing black as the color for all gondolas. 
No doubt this is a sensible rule, just as in con- 
vents the girls are dressed in black, so that there 
will be no rivalry in dress. But, oh, for a golden 
gondola on a silver lagoon! It would be, as 
the Bible says, "like apples of gold on beds of 
silver." 

Our guide pointed out to us a room in a small 
house supposed to have been occupied by Shy- 
lock. He did not insist that this was certain. 
It was evening and the sun was setting as we 
came back along the Grand Canal and through 
numerous little canals where we caught 
glimpses of gardens running down to the water's 
edge and balconies leaning out over the water. 
Venice is filled with these charming little views 
which have delighted the soul of painters for 
many centuries. 

It must have been interesting to have been 
here during carnival time in olden days. The 
town must have been a merry one. There is a 
good story told of a Turkish sailor who had been 
to Venice during the carnival. He informed his 
friends on his return to his country that the 
Venetians were all crazy when he arrived in 
Venice, but that they discovered one day a gray 
powder which, when it was placed upon their 

157 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



heads, instantly cured them of their madness. 
Of course he referred to the ashes used on Ash 
Wednesday, which is the end of carnival time. 
After seeing the Italian lakes and Venice, I 
can understand why Browning wrote: 

"Open my heart, and you will see 
Graved inside of it 'Italy.' " 



158 




FLORENCE 



FLORENCE. 

We took our travelling bags and left Venice 
with great regret. Our journey brought us 
through Bologna, which has a famous old uni- 
versity, and through Pistoia, from which we get 
the word pistol, so I was informed. We are in 
Florence, stopping at the Grand Hotel Baglione 
on the Via dei Panzani near the Piazza S. Maria 
Novella. 

We found the railroad journey rather dis- 
agreeable and dirty between Venice and Flor- 
ence. We had to pass through a number of tun- 
nels and the train was so crowded that we were 
packed like sardines. Railway travelling here 
is not quite so pleasant as it is at home. I don't 
think I should care to spend a night on the train. 
Just before we arrived at Florence, I noticed 
one of the porters getting the berths ready for 
those who were going farther south. I was glad 
that I did not have to spend the night on a 
wagon lit. 

Florence, called "La Bella," was at one time 
the artistic centre of the world, but when the 
Popes invited the great artists to come to Rome, 

159 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

ll Hill lllllM^Til— mill llflMltH 1 iwiiw HUM MM— »iMiiwu»m— 1| ' | ' 1ft I IMBigfWI 

Florence's light was somewhat dimmed. It is 
the city of the great Medici family and also of 
Savonarola. I recall these facts to your mem- 
ory lest you may have forgotten them. In the 
hotel I picked up a copy of Tauchnitz's edition 
of George Eliot's "Romola," and read with in- 
terest the preface which gives a description of 
Florence in the times of Savonarola. 

Jack made the acquaintance of a Mr. Preston 
Powers, who, I believe, was born here of Amer- 
ican parents, and whose father, a sculptor, is 
famous for his statue of the "Greek Slave." 
Jack became very friendly with him and sev- 
eral times on our sight-seeing trips he accom- 
panied us. He is an artist himself and, there- 
fore, it was very delightful to have him with us. 

We visited the Cathedral of Santa Maria del 
Fiore, which is wonderfully large. You realize 
that as soon as you enter it. The dome is higher 
than that of St. Peter's at Rome, and is the 
work of the celebrated architect Brunelleschi, 
who built it without any supports. The terrace 
around the dome has never been completed. It 
is stated that Pius IX on visiting the Duomo 
of Florence said: "In St. Peter's, man thinks; 
in Santa Maria del Fiore, man prays." 

After viewing the cathedral we were con- 
ducted by Mr. Powers to the Campanile, con- 

160 



FLORENCE 



sidered by many to be the most beautiful tower 
in the world. It was built by Giotto. This bell- 
tower is encased in marbles of various colors. 

The Baptistery, or the Church of St. John the 
Baptist, which we next visited, has three cele- 
brated bronze doors : one by Andrea Pisano and 
the other two by Lorenzo Ghiberti. They are 
the most wonderful bronze doors ever executed, 
and are certainly very beautiful. yVe spent 
some time examining them, Mr. Powers point- 
ing out their excellent workmanship. Michael 
Angelo said, "They were fit to serve as the gates 
of Paradise." The door by Andrea Pisano de- 
picts scenes from the life of St. John the Bap- 
tist, and the other two, scenes from the life of 
our Lord and from the Old Testament. 

Mr. Powers told us that it was a law of the 
city that all children must be baptized in this 
baptistery, and, in this way, the city has a rec- 
ord which it uses to corral young men for the 
army. 

From the Baptistery Mr. Powers suggested 
that we go to the Uffizi Gallery. We missed 
visiting the Church of Or San Michele, which 
originally served as a corn market. On our way 
to the gallery we came to the Loggia dei Lanzi, 
an arcade containing celebrated statues, and the 
Palazzo Vecchio, which is now used as a town 

161 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

hall. Near it is a bronze slab marking the spot 
on which Savonarola was burned. 

A little later we came to the Uffizi Gallery in 
the Palazzo degli Uffizi. We spent several de- 
lightful hours in this gallery, and the comments 
of Mr. Powers were both interesting and illu- 
minating. There are some famous pieces of 
sculpture, the most celebrated of all being prob- 
ably "The Venus de Medici," of which Nath- 
aniel Hawthorne has written so much in his 
"Italian Notes." In the Tribuna of the gallery 
we saw Raphael's well-known picture, "The 
Madonna of the Gold Finch." Mr. Powers 
showed us a painting done in distemper, a prep- 
aration which was used by early painters before 
the use of oil was discovered. 

The Uffizi Gallery is filled with so many beau- 
tiful pictures that one would need to come sev- 
eral times in order to get any adequate idea of 
them. When you leave this gallery your mind 
is somewhat confused by all the names of the 
great painters of whom you have so often heard. 

We saw many beautiful Madonnas by Andrea 
del Sarto, Fra Bartolommeo, Filippino Lippi, 
Era Eilippo Lippi, Botticelli, Fra Angelico and 
others. We also saw Titian's painting, the so- 
called "Flora," of which much has been written. 

At Mr. Powers' suggestion, after leaving the 
102 



FLORENCE 



Uffizi Gallery, we took a carriage ride up a hilly 
road, called the Viale dei Colli. It was a beau- 
tiful drive with many fine views. On the way 
we met an old monk in a ramshackle wagon 
drawn by a little jackass, slowly going home to 
his monastery. While we were driving along 
Mr. Powers told us a story which has been cur- 
rent in Florence for many a day. A young 
woman was forced by her parents against her 
will to marry a man whom she did not love. She 
was, in fact, in love with another. Sometime 
after she was married, she apparently died and 
her body was placed in a tomb. During the 
night she recovered from the trance and man- 
aged to get out of the coffin and make her way 
back to her husband's house. She rang the bell, 
and when he looked out of the window and saw 
her, he thought it was her ghost and he told her 
to go away and not worry him. She did not 
wish to go back to her mother, so she turned her 
steps to the home of the young man she loved. 
She rang the bell and his mother recognizing 
her received her gladly. She refused to go back 
any more to her husband's house, and it was de- 
cided that, as death dissolves marriage, she was 
now a free woman and could marry the young 
man of her choice. It is a very interesting story, 
isn't it? 

163 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



We finally came to the Piazzale Michelangelo, 
from which we had a splendid view of Florence 
and the surrounding country. On the top of 
the hill there is a giant bronze replica of the 
statue of David by Michael Angelo, the original 
of which is in the Academy of Fine Arts in 
Florence. 

We were pestered here by boys offering post 
cards for sale. These boys are certainly a nui- 
sance because they are so persistent. One young 
lad asked Jack if he would have some soda 
water, and before Jack could consult our wishes, 
the boy had four bottles opened. Jack smiled, 
and remarked that the descendants of Michael 
Angelo were good business people. 

From this terrace we could see the Church of 
Santa Croce, the Duomo, the Church of San 
Lorenzo and many others. To the north, Mr. 
Powers called our attention to the old Etruscan 
city of Fiesole, which was a thriving town long 
before the Christian era. Fra Angelico lived 
there for a while, and it was the home of another 
famous painter, Mina de Fiesole. 

On our way home Mr. Powers said he hoped 
to be able to accompany us to the Pitti Palace, 
the other famous picture gallery, in Florence, 
which we intend to visit to-morrow. 



164 




THE PONTE VECCHIO 



THE PITTI PALACE 

Mr. Powers joined us this morning and we 
started across the Ponte Vecchiofor the Palazzo 
Pitti, which is on the slope of a hill near a park 
called the Boboli Gardens. 

The Pitti Palace contains one picture which 
would make it famous even if it contained no 
other, Raphael's "Madonna della Sedia," the 
most popular of all the Madonnas. Here also 
is Raphael's "Madonna Granduca." I re- 
marked to Mr. Powers that the "Madonna della 
Sedia", was the most beautiful of all the Madon- 
nas, but he said that he did not think so, and 
called my attention to a Madonna on the oppo- 
site wall, which he thought surpassed it. I can- 
not remember now whose painting it was. He 
said, too, that the Sistine Madonna at Dresden 
was the greatest of all. Titian's "Magdalen" 
is also in the Pitti Palace. 

We saw many famous masterpieces, "The 
Concert," supposed to be painted by Giorgione, 
"Pope Leo and two Cardinals," by Raphael, 
and the "Hay Harvest" by Rubens, being 
among the most notable. Andrea del Sarto, 

165 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

Era Bartolommeo, and many other well-known 
painters are also represented. 

Near the Pitti Palace Mr. Powers showed us 
Casa Guidi, which was the residence of Robert 
Browning and his wife, Elizabeth Barrett 
Browning. Mr. Powers said that when he was 
a boy he often went with his father to call upon 
the Brownings. 

Florence is certainly an artistic treasure house, 
and I wish that I had more time to spend here, 
but the Eternal City is only a few hours away 
and we have decided to start in the morning. 

Along the line of the railroad, not far from 
Florence, is Vallombrosa. I had hoped to stop 
there for a day, but, as our time is limited, I 
gave up the idea. Perhaps it was better so. 
Vallombrosa has been my "Arcady" and "Cha- 
teau en Espagne." When I was at school, I 
came across the expression from Milton, "Thick 
as the leaves that strew the brooks in Vallom- 
brosa." I fell in love with the name. You have 
heard the story of the old lady who regretted 
hearing of her minister's death, because she said 
she knew that they would never get another 
minister who could say "Mesopotamia" as he 
did. I too was charmed with the high-sounding 
roll of Vallombrosa, and it became to me, and 
has always remained, my ideal spot in this vale 

166 



THE PITTI PALACE 



of tears. I imagined it a beautiful country, with 
gardens and woodlands, watered by pleasant 
streams, its gardens containing graceful marble 
statues, and the warm sunshine filling the whole 
place. I am sure that the real Vallombrosa 
would never have come up to my expectations, 
so perhaps it is just as well that we should hurry 
on to Rome. 

Jack told us of an incident that occurred early 
this morning. He awoke to find a man stooping 
under his bed. Immediately he grappled with 
him, and as Jack is a big fellow and the intruder 
was small, the struggle did not last long. Luck- 
ily the stranger spoke English and explained to 
Jack when he recovered from his fright that he 
was the porter, and was looking under the bed 
for Jack's shoes, which he forgot to leave out 
the night before to be polished. Jack recog- 
nized him and felt very sorry for the mistake. 
They had a good laugh over it. The servants 
are very simple and honest in the hotels. It is 
true they look eagerly for tips, but their honesty 
helps to make one be patient with that defect. 



167 



ST. PETER'S. 

A muddy stream that we passed before we 
reached Rome we discovered to be the Tiber, 
that "snake of gold" that runs through Rome 
as the Seine flows through Paris. 

We are stopping at the Hotel Moderne be- 
cause it is near the American College, where 
we are to meet Monsignor Kennedy, who is to 
procure us an audience with the Holy Father. 
The first visit we made was to St. Peter's. We 
crossed over the bridge of St. Angelo, which is 
flanked by ten large statues of angels. This 
bridge leads to the Castle of St. Angelo. The 
Emperor Hadrian built this for a tomb, and it 
was used for a resting place for his ashes and 
for those of succeeding emperors. It is an im- 
mense circular building, and a figure of St. Mi- 
chael the Archangel now surmounts it. Had- 
rian's tomb in the course of time was converted 
into a fortress and a prison. Beatrice Cenci and 
Benvenuto Cellini, the famous artist, were 
among its prisoners. 

A short drive brought us to the Piazza Rusti- 
cucci, which leads to the Piazza of St. Peter. 

168 



ST. PETER'S 



This latter piazza is enclosed by Bernini's beau- 
tiful colonnade of almost three hundred Doric 
columns, which are placed in rows of four and 
surmounted by many statues. In the centre of 
the piazza is an obelisk, on either side of which 
is a fountain. 

I believe it is an accepted fact that the facade 
of St. Peter's is not a success. It hides Michael 
Angelo's wonderful dome which crowns the basil- 
ica, and which is visible for miles before you 
reach Rome. 

Instead of doors at the entrance there are 
leather curtains. When you pass through these 
you find yourself in a beautiful, lightsome cathe- 
dral. On the polished pavement is marked the 
length of other great cathedrals, and thus you 
can compare them with St. Peter's and see that 
its nave is the longest in the world. St. Peter's 
took more than two hundred years to build, and 
cost more than sixty millions of dollars. Won- 
derful architects like Bramante, Michael An- 
gelo, Bernini and Raphael did their best to make 
it beautiful. It is not surprising, therefore, that 
a wonderful church should be the result of such 
great efforts. 

The high altar is under the dome, where the 
Pope alone celebrates mass on grand festivals, 
and, on such occasions, he is turned towards the 

169 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



congregation. Before the altar are many lamps 
which are kept constantly burning. Over it is 
a canopy of gilded bronze supported by twisted 
columns. 

Under the altar is the tomb of St. Peter. We 
went down a flight of steps to the crypt in which 
there is a statue of Pius VI, by Canova. It is 
a beautiful statue, and the expression of the 
countenance is heavenly. The delicate ornamen- 
tation on the cope in which the Pope is clad 
attracts one's attention. It is wonderful that 
dull cold marble can be so exquisitely chiselled. 

The statue of St. Peter seated on a chair is 
quite colossal. Protestants say that this was 
formerly a statue of Jupiter and was then trans- 
formed into one of St. Peter. This assertion, 
which I have often seen in print, is wrong. It 
is a work of the fifth century. 

We saw the chair of St. Peter, or rather, Ber- 
nini's ornamental throne, which encloses it. 

In one of the chapels there is a Pieta sculp- 
tured by Michael Angelo. The grief depicted 
on the face of the Blessed Mother holding the 
body of her Divine Son is very touching. 

We saw the tombs of many popes and of 
others historically famous. There are confes- 
sionals where confessions are heard in ten dif- 
ferent languages. I know that the English con- 

170 




STATUE OF MOSES IN ST. PETER'S 



ST. PETER'S 



fessor was absent on the occasion of our visit. 
Our guide pointed out to us the tomb of the 
"last of the Stuarts," James III, and his sons, 
one of whom was Cardinal York. This lovely 
tomb is the work of Canova. 

The interior of the greatest church in Chris- 
tendom is as bright, beautiful and clean as if 
it were built but yesterday. It is kept in ex- 
cellent condition. Away up in the dome we saw 
a man swinging on a rope, with a brush, clean- 
ing the walls. The sight made me positively 
dizzy. 

It is a strange thing that in summer St. 
Peter's is cool and in winter it is warm. It has 
an atmosphere of its own. Julia Ward Howe, 
while residing in Home, used to drive to St. 
Peter's on stormy days in winter, and then take 
a walk for exercise within the vast cathedral, 
because the atmosphere was so much better than 
out of doors. Rather a novel use to make of a 
Catholic church. There are, of course, no pews 
in St. Peter's, so one would be able to take a 
long walk. 

Our guide told us that every time he came 
to the basilica, he saw something new. No doubt 
it will grow upon us, and as we will be back to 
hear mass on Sunday, we shall have another 
chance to see this wonderful cathedral. 

171 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

There is a splendid view of Rome and of the 
Campagna from the dome of St. Peter's, and 
it is possible to get into the interior of the cop- 
per ball on the summit, but our guide informed 
us that unless we got up there before eight 
o'clock in the morning, we would find it dis- 
agreeably hot. As we do not rise very early, 
I hardly think we will visit the dome. 



172 




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CAPITOLINE AND ROMAN FORUM. 

We have been to the Capitol and to the Ro- 
man Forum. We drove down the Corso Um- 
berto, the principal street in Rome, through 
the Piazza Venezia and around an immense 
building which is being erected in memory of 
Victor Emanuel II. 

As you come into the Piazza of the Capitol, 
you see the bronze statue of the Emperor Mar- 
cus Aurelius, on horseback, one of the great 
treasures of Rome. 

The museum is the principal attraction on the 
Capitoline Hill. Some of the statues are very 
famous. There is, for instance, the one called 
the "Dying Gladiator," or the "Dying Gaul," 
made prominent by Byron in "Childe Harold." 
You remember the lines beginning with: 

"I see before me the gladiator lie." 

A copy of a satyr by the famous old Grecian 
sculptor Praxiteles is also in this museum. Nath- 
aniel Hawthorne wrote his story of the "Marble 
Faun" around this statue. 

173 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

There is one thing very noticeable about many 
of the statues seen in museums, and that is, no 
one knows for certain whom they represent. 

The Capitoline Venus, as it is called, is a copy 
of a work by Praxiteles, who wrought in the best 
days of Grecian art. 

On the Capitoline Hill is the Church of Santa 
Maria in Ara-Coeli. A high flight of steps leads 
to this beautiful edifice. This is the church in 
which the "Bambino," a little statue of the In- 
fant Saviour, is treated with so much veneration 
at Christmas time. Within the Octave of the 
Epiphany, every afternoon little children recite 
poems in honor of the "Bambino." 

Beneath one of the altars are the remains of 
St. Helena. 

On the south side of the Capitol is the Tar- 
peian Rock. Now, brush up your knowledge of 
ancient Roman history, and when we meet we 
will have a chat about Miss Tarpeia and the 
rock that is called after her. I believe she sold 
out Romulus to the Sabines for a gold bracelet 
she saw on the arm of Tatius, the leader of the 
Sabines. 

At the foot of the Capitoline Hill lies the 
Roman Forum, the great assemblage of ancient 
ruins in the very heart of the Eternal City. I 
cannot express to you the feeling of delight I 

174 



CAPITOLINE AND ROMAN FORUM 



experienced as I wandered among these ruins of 
once beautiful buildings. The Forum remained 
intact until the seventh century. After that it 
began gradually to decay, and it was stripped 
of its marble to build palaces and churches. It 
then became the quarry of Rome. Afterwards 
it was called the "Campo Vaccino," for cows 
used to be sent into it to graze. Perhaps you 
have seen copies of the beautiful pictures by the 
French artist Claude and the English artist Tur- 
ner, representing the Forum as the " Campo 
Vaccino." It is now under government care and 
is being gradually excavated under the direction 
of the famous archaeologist, Giacomo Boni, for 
the treasures that may still be hidden. 

The Forum is a wonderful collection of ruined 
temples, arches and broken columns. We had a 
guide with us who was the most intelligent we 
have met. I marvelled "That one small head 
could carry all he knew." Jack says it is a pity 
that a man with his knowledge isn't holding 
down a more lucrative position. He told us that 
he always acted as guide for the Catholic Pil- 
grimages to Rome. I wish I could remember 
half the things he mentioned, but there are so 
many centuries of life bound up in the Forum 
that the knowledge one gains in a few hours 
must necessarily be rather confused and evanes- 

175 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

cent. It certainly is a palimpsest. I can recall 
the three beautiful Parian marble columns of the 
Temple of Castor and Pollux, the single column 
of Phocus, the eight columns of the Temple of 
Saturn, and the three columns of the Temple of 
Vespasian. We saw, too, the rostra where Marc 
Antony, according to Shakespeare, delivered his 
great oration to the Roman people: 

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears; 
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him, 
The evil that men do lives after them; 
The good is oft interred with their bones." 

At the rostra, Cicero delivered his orations 
against Catiline. 

We passed the triumphal arch of Septimius 
Severus and came to the "Lapis Niger," the 
black stone, which is believed to have been placed 
over the tomb of Romulus, the founder of Rome. 
Jack says that the "Lapis Niger" is some stone. 

Our guide conducted us through ruined ba- 
silicas and showed us the home of the vestal vir- 
gins who perpetually guarded the sacred fire. 
These basilicas were law courts and became the 
model for Christian churches, which, as you 
know, are frequently called basilicas. 

We were much interested in a visit to the 
Mamertine Prison, over which is built the Church 

176 



CAPITOLINE AND ROMAN FORUM 



of St. Joseph. Here St. Peter was imprisoned. 
I possessed a book when I was young, called 
the "Victims of the Mamertine," which im- 
pressed me very much. The prison contains a 
spring, which, tradition says, bubbled up mi- 
raculously so that St. Peter was able to baptize 
his jailers. 

The guide pointed out to us in the side wall of 
a church, tombs which had been exposed by re- 
cent excavations. The archaeologists are finding 
new things, or, should I say, new old things, 
every little while. 

We walked along the Via Sacra where Horace 
met the bore Crispinus. Kindly pardon this 
classic reference, but one cannot help occasion- 
ally airing one's knowledge. I am not, how- 
ever, nearly so learned as the above piece of in- 
formation might indicate. 

There are other things in the Forum Roman- 
um, but as Hamlet said: 

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 

It is not for the likes of me to attempt to name 
them all. 

I think people who begin their tour of Europe 
by visiting Rome first make a mistake, as, after 
one has seen Rome, other ruins and monuments 

177 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

cannot be so effective. It is better to begin with 
the ivy-covered ruins of Irish castles and monas- 
teries and gradually work through the Continent 
to Rome. 



178 



THE COLISEUM. 

We have passed under two more triumphal 
arches, the Arch of Titus, built to commemorate 
his victory over the Jews, and the Arch of Con- 
stantine, the best preserved of all the arches in 
Rome. 

We then went to the Coliseum, which was 
originally called the Flavian Amphitheatre, that 
wonderful building which had a seating capacity 
of fifty thousand spectators, and of which Byron 
says: 

"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; 
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; 
And when Rome falls, the world." 

While on our way to the Coliseum, we passed 
a church to which a number of people were going 
to make the Stations of the Cross. Our guide 
informed us that when he was a boy, people used 
to come in the afternoons to say the Stations in 
the Coliseum. 

This is the most wonderful ruin in the Eternal 
City. Here Senators and Vestal Virgins looked 
on while early Christians were being devoured 
by wild animals. It is terrible to think that hu- 

179 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

— ^ — — — — — 

man beings could become so brutal. Awnings 
supported on masts sheltered the audience from 
the glare of the sun and from the rain. The 
arena could be flooded just as they flood the 
stage of the Hippodrome in New York, and then 
naval fights would be held. Sometimes the com- 
bats in the Coliseum lasted over one hundred 
days, during which many gladiators were put to 
death "to make a Roman holiday." I suppose 
you have heard that quotation before. 

The guide we had through the Coliseum did 
not speak the very best of English, and we had 
great difficulty in understanding him. If you 
asked him to repeat anything, he would shout it, 
and then his English would be still more difficult 
to comprehend. I found out after I had been 
with him some hours that I was very tired ow- 
ing to the fact that I had to pay the strictest at- 
tention to understand the kind of English he 
spoke. 

We have visited some other churches in Rome. 
There are so many it would take weeks to see 
them all. There are about three hundred and 
sixty churches in the Eternal City, one for al- 
most every day in the year. 

The Dominican Church of St. Clement is one 
of the oldest churches in Rome, and you feel this 
as soon as you enter it. The present church of 

180 



THE COLISEUM 



St. Clement, which dates from the twelfth cen- 
tury is actually built over an earlier church of 
the fourth century. The choir screen in the up- 
per church was taken from the lower one. I was 
happy that we saw this church, for it brought 
back to me very vividly early Christianity. 

The Church of St. John Lateran is the mother 
of all the churches in Rome and in the world. 
The largest obelisk in existence stands in front 
of it. The facade of the church is immense, and 
has five entrances. The interior is very spacious 
and majestic. The nave is four hundred and 
twenty-six feet in length, so you can see that it 
is a great church. 

It has some very beautiful mosaics. The new 
statue of Pope Leo XIII is a splendid piece 
of work. It shows the old Pope with his hand 
extended, and it is done so well that you imagine 
you can almost see the trembling fingers of old 



There is a graceful cloister attached to the 
church which was constructed in the thirteenth 
century. This is the first old cloister I have seen, 
and it is certainly a charming piece of work. 

The Lateran Palace is next to the basilica, and 
formerly was the residence of the Popes. 

We visited the baptistery in which there is an 
ancient baptismal font of green basalt. The 

181 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

baptistery possesses a musical door. The guide 
opened and closed it slowly, and you would im- 
agine while he was doing this that you heard an 
organ playing. 

Across from the church is the Scala Santa, 
twenty-eight marble steps, taken from the house 
of Pilate at Jerusalem, which our Lord ascended 
on his way to be judged by Pilate. They were 
brought to Rome by the Empress Helena. 

It is necessary to go up these stairs on your 
knees. Jack did not quite understand this, so, 
after kneeling on one step for a moment, he arose 
and started for the one above. An Italian wom- 
an who was standing near, tugged at his coat 
and explained to him the necessity of going up 
the steps on his knees. Jack very dutifully 
obeyed her, but the incident was so comical that 
it broke up all our devotion for the first few 
steps. 

The most beautiful church in Rome, according 
to my guide book, is the Church of Santa Maria 
Maggiore, which was formerly called Our Lady 
of the Snows, because, according to a legend, the 
Blessed Virgin appeared to Pope Liberius and 
commanded him to erect a church on the spot 
where he would find snow on the 5th of August. 

The ceiling of the church is gilded with the 
first gold brought from South America. The 

182 



THE COLISEUM 



mosaics in this church were executed in about 
the fifth century. I am not certain, but I be- 
lieve that they must be the oldest Christian mo- 
saics in Rome. 

This church contains a Sistine chapel, but not 
the famous one, which is in the Vatican. It has 
been gorgeously restored by Popes Pius IX and 
Leo XIII, and it is certainly very brilliant. Op- 
posite this is the Borghese chapel with its altar 
decorated with lapis lazuli. Over the altar is a 
picture of the Blessed Virgin said to have been 
painted by St. Luke. 

From the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore 
we went to the Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli 
founded in the fifth century by the Empress 
Eudoxia to receive the chains which bound St. 
Peter in prison. The columns in the nave were 
taken from the Roman baths. We came to this 
church especially because Michael Angelo's re- 
nowned statue of Moses is located here. The 
figure is a huge one, and the marble beard is con- 
siderably more than life size. It is heroic like 
all of Michael Angelo's work. Jack says he 
takes off his hat to Michaelangelo Buonarroti. 
He was an architect, sculptor, painter, poet and 
many other things too numerous to mention. 
The guides always refer to him with deep emo- 
tion and respect. 



THE CATACOMBS. 

We have been out along the Appian Way to 
the catacombs. I felt as though I were going 
on a pilgrimage. There is a little church there 
called "Domine, Quo Vadis," and it receives its 
name from a legend which says that St. Peter, 
fleeing from Rome, here met our Divine Lord, 
and St. Peter asked him "Domine, Quo Vadis?" 
(Lord, whither goest thou?) Our Saviour re- 
plied that he was going back to take the place 
that St. Peter was deserting. When the Apostle 
heard this, ashamed of himself, he returned to 
Rome. 

We visited the Catacombs of St. Callixtus. A 
young monk acted as guide and provided us with 
small tapers by which we lighted our way 
through the subterranean passages. These cata- 
combs were first used as burial places, but dur- 
ing the persecutions, the Christians lived down 
here under the earth, and many suffered martyr- 
dom, being pursued through their underground 
homes and killed. 

Along the narrow passages we saw many 
sepulchres. Occasionally the young monk would 

184 



THE CATACOMBS 



point out a small impression in the earth at the 
side of a grave. This impression was made by 
a bottle containing the blood of the martyr who 
was buried there. In the first centuries the faith- 
ful would gather up the blood of the martyrs 
who fell in the Coliseum and elsewhere, and put- 
ting it in bottles place them beside their bodies 
in the Catacombs. 

The body of St. Cecilia was entombed in the 
Catacombs of St. Callixtus. The remains have 
since been removed and are now in the Church 
of St. Cecilia in Trastevere. 

On the Appian Way we came upon the tomb 
of Cecilia Metella. This is an immense circular 
structure. I believe it is the oldest building in 
Rome in which marble was used. This Cecilia 
Was the daughter of Metellus Creticus, my guide- 
book informs me. She was a pagan. You can 
imagine how large this tomb is, for in later times 
it was furnished with battlements and used as a 
fort. 

Along the Via Appia there are other cata- 
combs and the ruins of many tombs. I forgot 
to mention that the Via Appia runs through 
the Campagna, that immense desolation that 
surrounds Rome. 

On another one of our trips, we went out of 
the Gate of St. Paul and along the Campagna 

185 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

to visit the Church of St. Paul outside the 
Walls. This is a modern church, though there 
was a church founded here in the fourth century. 
In 1832, another church that was erected on this 
spot was totally destroyed by fire. Our guide, 
who spoke indifferent English, pointed out to 
us that St. Paul's was a combination of a pagan 
building and a Christian church, the nave being 
pagan in its architecture and supported by eighty 
granite columns. The columns supporting the 
canopy over the high altar are the gift of Ma- 
homet Ali, Viceroy of Egypt, and there are 
malachite pedestals, which Emperor Nicholas, 
the Czar of Russia, presented. The mosaics 
in this church are of the fifth century. Some 
few years ago a discharge of dynamite in the 
vicinity destroyed the stained glass windows. 

Adjoining the church are very beautiful 
cloisters of the thirteenth century, reminding one 
of the cloisters at St. John Lateran. Altogether 
this is a large and striking basilica, quite differ- 
ent from any church we have visited. 

Jack was much amused by our guide, whose 
English was atrocious. Every little while he 
would point out something to us and say it was 
the work of the "Twelfthteenth" century. 

After leaving the Church of St. Paul, we 
drove more than a mile further and came to 

186 



THE CATACOMBS 



the Trappist Monastery of Tre Fontane. Here, 
St. Paul, by the command of Nero was mar- 
tyred, and tradition says his head bounded three 
times after it had fallen to the ground. On 
each spot a fountain sprung up, and these were 
later enclosed in a chapel. Afterwards, at the 
end of the sixteenth century, a church was built 
which is now under the care of the French Trap- 
pists. The Campagna formerly was so un- 
healthy that it became deserted, and the Trap- 
pists were invited by the Holy Father to take 
possession of the church in 1868. A number of 
them died in the beginning, but the eucalyptus 
tree has been planted so extensively that malaria 
has now ceased to be a menace. One of the 
monks very kindly acted as our guide and con- 
ducted us around the grounds and through the 
church, pointing out the three wells or foun- 
tains, from which the church takes its name. 

It was now nearly seven o'clock, and I began 
to have fears of the Campagna, because I have 
always heard that after sundown it is not a very 
healthy spot. The scene as we were coming back 
was very peaceful, and one can hardly imagine 
that this desert was once densely peopled and 
dotted with numerous towns. 

On our way home, the driver of our carriage 
showed us the English Cemetery, but unfortu- 

187 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



nately it was too late for us to tarry, which I re- 
gretted very much. Therein is the tomb of John 
Keats, one of my favorite poets, and the heart 
of Shelley is also buried there. 



188 



THE PALATINE HILL AND THE 
BATHS OF CARACALLA. 

We have been up on the Palatine Hill and 
through the ruins of the Palace of the Csesars, 
great masses of bricks which once were covered 
with marble. It was the boast of Cgesar Augus- 
tus that he found Rome of brick and left it of 
marble. A guide showed us through the ancient 
ruins, pointing out the different rooms used by 
the old Romans, of which I remember the Tab- 
linum, or throne room, the Peristylium and the 
Triclinium, or dining hall. It is not without 
emotion that one wanders through the very 
rooms occupied by the great Emperors of Rome. 

On this hill, Nero built his Golden House, 
which was so large that it extended across and 
beyond the Esquiline Hill. Nero, as it is com- 
monly believed, instigated the burning of the city 
of Rome, and it is said that he played on his 
riddle while the Imperial City was being reduced 
to ashes, After the fire he built his magnificent 
Golden House, but scarcely anything of it re- 
mains. I suppose Charles Dudley Warner took 

189 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

the title of his novel, "The Golden House," from 
Nero's palace. 

We have been over to Trastevere, which means 
"across the Tiber." I always thought till I came 
to Rome that the Tiber was the name of this 
ancient river. Here they call it the Tevere. It 
was a great disappointment to me when I found 
this out. I still think Tiber a much finer name 
than Tevere. 

The Sublicium Bridge over the Tiber is the 
one Horatius Codes defended. You remember 
Macaulay's poem where Horatius prays : 

"O Tiber, father Tiber! 
To whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, 
Take thou in charge this day!" 

Now just imagine if that were changed to, 

"O Tevere, father Tevere, 
To whom the Romans pray." 

It doesn't seem to have the true ring. Another 
thing that gave me a shock was seeing in the 
windows of a bookstore Shakespeare's plays la- 
belled as the works of G. Shakespeare, William 
in Italian, being Guglielmo. 

We drove up the heights of the Janiculum. 
It is not one of the seven hills of Rome, but it 

190 



BATHS OF CARACALLA 

is the highest hill in the city. We passed the 
Acqua Paola, one of the great Roman fountains, 
and came to the Church of San Pietro in Mon- 
torio, which is built on the spot where St. Peter 
was martyred. The view from the Janiculum 
is delightful. Just below us were the churches 
of Santa Maria in Trastevere and Santa Cecilia 
in Trastevere. The driver of our carriage 
pointed out to us the old Appian Way, the Al- 
ban and the Sabine Mountains, the town of 
Frascati, where they make good wine, and 
Monte Cavo, the highest point of the Alban 
Mountains. , 

We drove over from the Janiculum to the 
Baths of Caracalla, which are at the foot of the 
Aventine Hill. These great baths were built in 
Christian times by pagan emperors. They were 
begun by Caracalla, extended by Heliogabalus 
and finished by Alexander Severus, and con- 
tained a Tepidarium, Frigidarium and Calda- 
rium. Are not those fine sounding words? I 
revel in such titles. Such names as Heliodorus 
of Helicarnassus, Theodore of Mopsuestia and 
Drummond of Hawthornden are to me a con- 
stant delight. 

The Baths of Caracalla were so large that they 
could accommodate sixteen hundred bathers at 
one time and contained some of the greatest ar- 

191 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

tistic treasures which have come down to us from 
early times. 

As immense ruins, these baths are second only 
to the Coliseum. Of course, they have been 
stripped of the precious marbles that encrusted 
the brick work, which is all that now remains. 

We passed a rather ancient looking edifice 
and Jack asked the driver what ruin it was. 
The driver, with rather a pitying look in his 
eyes, replied, "That is not a ruin, that is a 
tenement house." Of course, we all had a good 
laugh, but surely it did look like something of the 
twelfth century. Travellers, no doubt, ask very 
many foolish questions. W. W. Story, the well- 
known sculptor, on one occasion conducted a 
party of Americans through his studio to show 
them some of his work. He came to a bust that 
he had made of his own father, and before he had 
time to mention this, the spokesman of the party 
asked, "Well, sir, what is this intended to rep- 
resent?" I suppose he thought it was mytholog- 
ical. 

Archaeology must be a very interesting study. 
I mean to take it up some day, now that I have 
seen so many ruins. If New York City ever 
falls into decay, won't the sky-scrapers make 
charming heaps for future generations to ad- 
mire? 

192 



SOME OBJECTS OF INTEREST. 

When I discovered that Guido Reni's far- 
famed picture of Beatrice Cenci was in the 
Barberini Palace, I determined to see it, so the 
next time we went out for a drive I directed 
the driver to take us there. 

When he arrived at the palace the custodian 
told us that it was closed. Of course, I was 
awfully disappointed. He hastened to explain, 
however, that while the museum was not open 
to visitors, still he would let us in. There was 
a turnstile at the entrance, but he brought us 
in another way and Jack paid him a dollar as 
entrance fee, which, of course, the turnstile did 
not record. 

The gallery of the Barberini Palace contains 
the so-called Fornarina of Raphael. The Pitti 
Palace in Florence has another. There is a 
picture by Albert Durer, "Our Lord Disputing 
with the Doctors," which has the distinction of 
having been painted in five days. 

I don't know what I can tell you about the 
head of Beatrice Cenci, except that I think it 
is most beautiful. I must confess I have never 
been able to appreciate Leonardo da Vinci's 

193 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

"Mona Lisa," and to see in that face all that 
others see. Rut there is such a charm and love- 
liness about the face of Reatrice that I do not 
wonder that Nathaniel Hawthorne said that 
Guido Reni painted better than he knew. 

The Rarberini Palace, by the way, was the 
home of W. W. Story, the famous American 
sculptor, who lived on the third piano, which is 
the word by which a floor is designated. I 
wonder if they call the basement pianissimo? 

We dropped into the Church of the Cappuc- 
cini, where there is a celebrated and beautiful 
painting of St. Michael, the archangel, by 
Guido Reni. There are subterranean burial 
chapels in this church which contain the bodies 
of the Capuchin monks. I never saw so many 
skulls gathered together. The bones of the 
monks are used for mural decorations. The 
sight, as you may imagine, is rather lugubrious 
and positively shocked Mrs. Lawlor. No doubt, 
the old monks were buried in this fashion from 
pious motives, but it is somewhat revolting to 
modern eyes. 

I am sorry I did not get to the Rospigliosi 
Palace, which contains a ceiling painting by 
Guido Reni called "Aurora," depicting the 
Goddess of the Morning strewing flowers before 
the chariot of the God of the Sun. 

194 



SOME OBJECTS OF INTEREST 



We visited the Piazza di Spagna, which has 
always been called the strangers' quarters in 
Rome. It contains many book shops, and 
English is spoken here more than in any other 
place in Rome. 

Looking down upon it is the Church of San- 
tissima Trinita dei Monti, where the nuns sing 
vespers every evening. A long flight of steps 
leads from the church to the piazza. It is on 
these steps that artists' models were wont to 
congregate in picturesque costumes, waiting for 
painters to employ them. 

In a house at the foot of these steps, on the 
left side, John Keats died. A very high column 
in honor of the Immaculate Conception stands 
just near the College of the Propaganda. 

This afternoon Jack hired a driver who gen- 
erally haunts our hotel, and who speaks a little 
English, and we let him take us where he wished. 
He drove us along the Corso and through the 
Piazza Colonna, where there is the column of 
Marcus Aurelius. The column is capped now 
with a statue of St. Paul. 

We visited the Pantheon, or La Rotonda, as 
it is called. Our driver informed us that this 
was "important," accent on the last syllable. 
The Pantheon, erected it is supposed as a 
temple of all the Gods, must have been a beauti- 

195 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



ful edifice when it was built, with its wonderful 
bronze dome, from which Michael Angelo copied 
the dome of St. Peter's. There is an opening in 
the roof through which the sunlight sifts and 
the rain falls, so sometimes you may see a pool 
of water on the marble floor. Raphael is buried 
here, as are also King Victor Emanuel II. and 
King Humbert I. The Pantheon in the mid- 
dle ages was dedicated as a Christian church 
under the name of St. Mary of the Martyrs and 
mass is still said here occasionally. 

From the Pantheon our guide drove us to 
the Church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, 
which gets its name from being built over the 
ruins of a temple of Minerva. This church con- 
tains some interesting treasures, the most famous 
of all being the marble statue of Our Lord by 
Michael Angelo. The foot of this statue has 
been protected by a bronze shoe to prevent the 
marble from being discolored by the thousands 
who wish to kiss the foot. 

Our guide told us that we would next visit the 
Church of St. Augustine where there was a 
famous Madonna. When we arrived a service 
was being held and there was quite a crowd of 
people. The Madonna, of which our guide 
spoke, is one that is reverenced greatly in Rome. 
It is almost entirely covered with votive offer- 

196 



SOME OBJECTS OF INTEREST 



ings. The sacristan pointed out to us a painting 
of the Prophet Isaias, by Raphael. It is very 
much damaged and the coloring is faint. I was 
much pleased when I discovered that the tomb of 
St. Monica, the mother of St. Augustine, was 
here. One of my greatest pleasures, when 
casually drifting into a church of which I know 
nothing, is to meet some unexpected treasure, 
painting or tomb. 

On our way back from our drive, we stopped 
in at the Jesuit Church, the Gesu. Under an 
altar is the body of St. Ignatius. The Gesu is 
a very gorgeous church. My guidebook informs 
me that the block of lapis lazuli at the altar of 
St. Ignatius is said to be the largest in the world. 

Almost every church contains some of this 
precious stone. The guide never fails to call 
your attention to it. It seems to me that the 
beautiful things wrought in the past in the 
cities of Italy ought to be left in them and not 
pass into the possession of American million- 
aires. They lose their setting and I think it is 
unfair to tear these treasures from the children 
of those who fashioned them. 



197 



AUDIENCE WITH THE HOLY 
FATHER. 

Jack received a telephone message from the 
North American College, telling him that an 
audience with the Holy Father was arranged for 
this morning. Accordingly we went bright and 
early to the college, and were conducted to the 
Vatican by Monsignor Kennedy, who was very 
kind and courteous to us. Jack was in full dress 
and we wore black dresses with black mantillas 
on our heads. I carried with me a box of beads 
and crucifixes to be blessed by the Holy Father, 
which I intend to distribute among my friends 
and the children of my Sunday school class. 

We drove from the American College to the 
Vatican Palace. When we arrived there, Pope 
Pius X. had already started the audiences. 
There were a number of male servants dressed 
in rather gorgeous red livery who received us. 
After a short wait we were led through a num- 
ber of rooms, in one of which Monsignor Ken- 
nedy remarked that Pope Leo XIII. had died. 

198 



AUDIENCE WITH HOLY FATHER 



It was in the next room to this that the Holy 
Father received us. Bishop Northrop, of 
Charleston, who was with our party, and Mon- 
signor Kennedy went into the Pope's own room 
and had a short talk with him, after which they 
accompanied him to the room in which we were 
congregated. We all knelt down and the Holy 
Father blessed us, after which we were intro- 
duced to him separately. 

I thought the Holy Father was about the 
most simple mannered man I had ever met. He 
seemed almost bashful. Monsignor Kennedy 
and Bishop Northrop did most of the talking. 
When the audience was finished, the secretary 
of the Pope showed him the beads and crucifixes 
I wished blessed, and he very kindly pronounced 
a benediction over them. I was charmed with 
the simplicity of the audience. I really pity the 
Holy Father in this matter of audiences. He 
gives more than any other Pope ever gave, and 
there is a constant stream of people from all 
parts of the world pouring in upon him. 

Apropos of audiences with the Holy Father, 
I remember a story which a priest told me. He 
received a notice at his hotel that Pope Leo 
XIII. would see him and another priest. They 
started for the Vatican, and on their way met 
a clerical friend whom they invited to go with 

199 ' 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

them. The letter of introduction stated that 
the audience would be given to two priests. The 
Pope's majordomo objected, therefore, to a 
third person in the party, but the two priests 
fought it out with loud and strenuous arguments 
and finally had their way. When they came 
into the room where Pope Leo was waiting to 
see them, the old Pope said to them in French, 
"You are Americans." One of the priests 
answered, "Yes, Holy Father, how could you 
tell?" "Because," Pope Leo responded, "you 
make so much noise." 

Owing to a lack of time we did not get a 
chance to see the Vatican Gardens where the 
Holy Father takes his recreation. After lunch 
and after we had rested a little while, we went 
back to make a visit to the Vatican gallery. 

The Vatican, which adjoins St. Peter's, is 
the largest palace in the world, having twenty 
courts and eleven thousand halls and rooms. 

At the door leading to the palace may be seen 
a number of Swiss guards in their gorgeous 
uniforms of red and yellow, which were designed 
for them by Michael Angelo. 

We visited the Sistine Chapel, named after 
Sixtus IV. It is divided into two parts by a 
screen of marble, and contains a tribune for the 
choir. It is not wonderful that this chapel when 

200 



AUDIENCE W ITH HOLY FATHER 

completed should have been the most beautiful 
one in the world, since the frescoes on the walls 
were done by such great artists as Botticelli, 
Ghirlandajo, Perugino, Pinturicchio and Luca 
Signorelli. The paintings of these fifteenth cen- 
tury masters represent scenes from the life of 
Our Lord and from the life of Moses. Their 
artistic work is crowned by the roof of Michael 
Angelo, with his wonderful pictures of the crea- 
tion of the world, the deluge and the last judg- 
ment. Time has not dealt so gently with these 
great paintings and their glory is much dimmed, 
but still they have been the admiration of great 
artists ever since the day when Rome first be- 
held them and went wild with joy. 

From the Sistine Chapel we went to the 
Stanze of Raphael. These four rooms contain, 
according to some authorities, the most wonder- 
ful series of decorations in existence. 

"The Dispute," as it is called, which is a 
glorification of the Blessed Sacrament, and the 
"School of Athens" were familiar to me from 
copies I had seen. They are in the Stanze della 
Segnatura. 

In the Stanze dell'Incendio is the great pic- 
ture of the conflagration which raged in the 
Vatican quarter and, according to tradition, was 
extinguished by Pope Leo IV. making the sign 

201 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

of the cross. This picture gives the room its 
name. 

In the Stanze d'Eliodoro there are a number 
of scenes from the Old Testament and the "Mass 
of Bolsena," which pictures the Sacred Host 
stained with blood. 

In the Sala di Costantino are the paintings 
of those artists who succeeded Raphael. The 
picture gallery, which is called the Pinacoteca, 
contains a number of pictures by the old masters, 
which the British Government presented to Pope 
Pius VII. after the defeat of Napoleon. They 
had been taken from churches during the 
Napoleonic wars. Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, 
Era Angelico, Perugino, Titian and many others 
are here represented. The "Madonna of 
Foligno," and the "Transfiguration" are the two 
best known of Raphael's pictures in this gal- 
lery. Domenichino's "St. Jerome," and Muril- 
lo's "Marriage of St. Catherine" are also 
famous. 

We visited a gallery of modern paintings, 
most of them, I think, being presents to Pope 
Leo XIII. on the occasion of his golden jubilee. 
Of course, these paintings have a freshness which 
is gone forever from those of the old masters. 

We visited also the collection of statuary and 
saw that terrible marble group of Laocoon and 

202 



AUDIENCE WITH HOLY FATHER 



his two sons being strangled by serpents. This 
Greek "marvel of art," as Michael Angelo 
called it, was discovered in 1506. We also saw 
the Apollo Belvedere, which has been copied the 
world over. The Pagans glorified the body in 
sculpture and the Christians have brought out 
the beauty of the soul in painting. 

We spent a most delightful afternoon at the 
Vatican, and I am sure it will take years of 
reading before I can gain anything approaching 
an exact knowledge of all that I saw in those 
few hours. 

As we were about to leave the guide pointed 
out to us a papal guard and a national guard 
marching up and down upon a wall. One rep- 
resented the church and the other the state. 
The national guard remained on state terri- 
tory, the Vatican being recognized as outside of 
the King's jurisdiction. 



203 



AN EVENING DRIVE. 

There appear to be very few Americans here 
at this time. Those to whom we talked in Paris 
about coming to Rome seemed to think it would 
be too hot in the Eternal City during August. 
We have not found it intolerable. It is rather 
warm in the sun for a few hours in the after- 
noon. Exposed places like the Piazza of St. 
Peter and the Forum are rather disagreeably 
hot, but when you are in the shade it is not un- 
comfortable, and the nights are pleasant. 

We took a drive last evening around the city. 
We passed by the Forum, and I thought of poor 
Daisy Miller, of Schenectady, in Henry James* 
story. I have always felt that he killed her off 
with Roman fever rather too abruptly. 

When we came in our drive to the fountain 
of Trevi, the most beautiful of the many Roman 
fountains, we got out of the carriage and threw 
pennies into the water. There is a legend that 
any one who throws a penny into the fountain of 
Trevi will return to Rome, and I do hope I 
will. 

When the Italians are bidding one another 
204 



AN EVENING DRIVE 



good-by, they say "a rivederci" which means 
"to see you again." I said "a rivederci" to the 
fountain of Trevi. You see I am absorbing 
Italian. My knowledge of the language re- 
minds me of a story a nun once told me. She 
had been a teacher of colored children in the 
West Indies. She taught them to sing a simple 
little hymn in Latin. One of her pupils sang 
the hymn at home, and her mother, after hear- 
ing her, said to a friend, "Those nuns are power- 
ful good teachers. My child can now speak the 
Latin language as well as her own." 

Our drive brought us to the neighborhood of 
the station at which we had arrived when we 
came to Rome. The Baths of Diocletian are 
near it. The Church of Santa Maria degli An- 
geli was built within a part of these baths by 
Michael Angelo. It is said to be a beautiful 
church. 

The Via Venti Settembre, just beyond the 
church, takes its name from the fact that the 
Italian troops marched into Rome through the 
Porta Pia on September 20, 1870. Victor 
Emanuel II then became King of United Italy 
and the Holy Father ceased to rule in the Eter- 
nal City and the Papal States. This is why he 
is called the "Prisoner of the Vatican." 

The Via Venti Settembre leads to the Qui- 
205 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

rinal Palace, formerly the summer residence of 
the Popes, but now the palace of the King of 
Italy. In the piazza in front of the Quirinal are 
two great marble statues called the Horse 
Tamers. They are said to be the works of the 
great sculptors Phidias and Praxiteles, but 
there is no good authority for the statement. Of 
course, we did not visit the Quirinal Palace, as 
it was rather late to call on any one, especially 
a king. Part of it can, I believe, be visited 
with a written permission. 

We came home by way of Trajan's Forum, 
which is rilled with broken columns and con- 
tains a tall marble column called after Trajan. 
It is covered with reliefs depicting scenes from 
the wars he waged. Formerly his statue 
crowned the top of this column, but several cen- 
turies ago it was replaced by one of St. Peter. 

Now that we are about to leave Rome, I re- 
gret we did not get to the Pincian Hill, where 
the Romans take the air in the afternoon while 
a band discourses sweet music. We did intend 
to go there, but the clerk in the hotel said the 
View of Rome from the Janiculum was better 
as it was a higher hill, so I must say regretfully 
"a rivederci" to Rome without having visited the 
Pincian. But, as I threw a penny into the foun- 
tain of Trevi, I can hope to come back again to 

206 



AN EVENING DRIVE 



the city of the seven hills, where I have had too 
short a stay. I do not mean this as a complaint. 
I am very happy in having reached here. It has 
opened up to me much knowledge of 

"Old, unhappy, far-off things, 
And battles long ago." 

One might say of Rome that "to love her was 
a liberal education." 

We have come to a sudden determination to 
run down to Naples. This trip is not included in 
our circular tickets, but we feel that we have 
the time to spare and it would be a pity to go 
back home without seeing this interesting part 
of Italy. 



207 



NAPLES. 

We arrived in Naples late this afternoon, 
having passed some interesting places on our 
journey here from Rome. The ruins of the old 
Claudian Aqueduct and the tombs on the Via 
Appia are visible as the train rushes across the 
Campagna. We came through Aquino, the city 
where both Juvenal and St. Thomas the Angelic 
Doctor were born. Further on the way, on the 
top of a hill, we saw the famous Benedictine 
Monastery of Monte Cassino, founded by St. 
Benedict in 529. We passed Capua and a few 
miles beyond it the town of Santa Maria, which 
is built on the site of the old city of Capua, once 
a rival of Rome and Carthage. Next we came 
to Caserta, which Baedeker calls the Versailles 
of Naples, but which means "the dreary house." 
Of course we were all anxious to catch a glimpse 
of Vesuvius. We had to possess our souls in 
patience for a time as another mountain, Monte 
Somma, hid it from our view. At last we caught 
sight of the old destructive volcano. Later the 
Castle of St. Elmo on the hill above Naples was 
pointed out to us, and shortly after we ran into 
the station., 

208 




mSMmBsSSm 
VIA ROMA, NAPLES 



NAPLES. 

There are some phrases that have heen worked 
very hard since they first saw the light of day. 
One of them surely is "Vedi Napoli e poi 
muorir ;( "See Naples and then die!") I have 
seen that advice translated thus: "Before dying, 
see Naples." This is not a literal translation, 
but it contains good advice. When you first en- 
ter Naples at the central station and drive to 
your hotel, you are not very favorably impressed. 
At least I was not, and I have heard of travellers 
who were so affected by the noise in the streets 
and by the unkempt look of the town, that they 
immediately, after arriving, took the train for 
Rome. Some people lose their courage too 
quickly, or let first impressions affect them too 
strongly. 

"jYour nerves are hurt 
By that expression — dirt — nay, then I see 
You love not nature, art, or Italy ! " 

We are stopping at the Hotel de Londres. 
As soon as we found rooms, we accepted the in- 
vitation of an importunate hackman and entered 
his carriage for a drive. He proved to be the 
noisiest guide we have met. On the way he 
showed us letters from English ladies recom- 
mending him as an excellent guide and one who 
spoke English very well. As regards his Eng- 
lish, it was the worst ever. He seemed to think 

209 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

that the louder he shouted the better he made 
himself understood. After we had gone some 
distance we did not ask him any more questions 
because his shouting attracted too much atten- 
tion. For instance, as we turned the corner of 
a street and caught sight of a soldier, our driver, 
placing his hand over his mouth so as to mask 
his voice, screamed, "It ees a captain in the 
army." Of course the captain heard the remark 
and drew himself up with dignity, resenting no 
doubt being pointed out on the public highway. 
After our guide made the announcement, he 
leaned back towards us and wildly shrieked, "Do 
you understandy me?" He certainly tried hard 
to please, but his wild war-whoops fell like lashes 
on the ambient air. Peace be to him, he meant 
well. 

Life in Naples is lived in the open. We saw 
one young woman combing another's hair while 
she sat complacently in a chair on the sidewalk. 

Via Roma, formerly called Toledo, is a very 
fine and busy street. As Naples is built on the 
side of a hill, many of its streets are precipitous 
and narrow and not very prepossessing in ap- 
pearance, though picturesque for all that. Our 
guide pointed out to us the Church of St. Fran- 
cesca di Paola, which is built in imitation of the 
Pantheon at Rome; the Palazzo Reale and the 

210 



NAPLES 

Theatre of San Carlo. We next entered the Via 
Parthenope and saw the Castello dell' Ovo, 
which is now used as a prison. 

The Villa Nazionale is a pretty park running 
along by the sea. Further on we came to the 
Church of Santa Maria di Piedigrotta, the 
feast of which is kept with great solemnity in 
Naples. 

There are two tunnels through the hill of Po- 
silipo, which got its name from the villa of an 
epicure, the meaning of which is "Sans Souci." 
The old tunnel or grotto is associated with Vir- 
gil. Our driver pointed out to us Virgil's tomb. 
I really grew excited at this piece of information. 
Standing up in the carriage I shouted out 
"Tityre, tu patulce recubans sub tegmine jagi." 
It was all I remembered of Virgil from my con- 
vent studies, and I felt that I should lay this 
little offering at his tomb. My travelling com- 
panions thought I had taken leave of my senses, 
so I had to explain myself. Afterwards I found 
out from the guide-book that it is not at all cer- 
tain this is Virgil's tomb. Guide-books are very 
matter of fact and destroy a great many beau- 
tiful impressions. 

We drove through the old grotto in which 
there were many goats returning to the city. 
They are the milk supply of Naples. The goat 

211 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



is milked while you wait. In this way you are 
sure to get fresh milk, even though it is not pas- 
teurized. This grotto was built in the time of 
Emperor Augustus. We got a view of the vil- 
lage of Fuorigrotta, and then came back through 
the new tunnel, which is a modern piece of work 
and well lighted. We drove along the Riviera di 
Chiaia back to our hotel. 

After dinner we paid a visit to the Galleria 
Umberto Primo, which is much the same as the 
Galleria Vittorio Emanuele in Milan. It was 
brilliantly lighted with electricity and well filled 
with people. We next took a walk along the Via 
Roma, to see the shops. 

Jack then hired a carriage and we drove to 
the Cathedral of St. Januarius. Unfortunately 
it was closed. This is the church in which oc- 
curs the liquefaction of the blood of the saint 
twice a year, in May and September. 

I thought I was among ancient things when 
I was in Rome, but here one gets still nearer to 
Adam and Eve. Over a thousand years before 
Christianity was founded, some Greeks came 
from the town of Cumee and settled on the pres- 
ent site of Naples, calling it Parthenope, after 
one of the Sirens. Their settlement grew and a 
new town was formed and called Neapolis, to 
distinguish it from the older settlement called 

212 




THE GALLERIA 



NAPLES 

Palseopolis. The present city of Naples now 
takes in both of them. 

Our hotel is situated opposite the Castel Nu- 
ovo, built by Charles I of Aragon when the An- 
gevine princes ruled Naples. 

It is not uncomfortably warm here, as I 
thought it might be. I have a nice little balcony 
outside of my room, where it is pleasant to sit 
and look out over the water. That you may see 
Naples before you die is my ardent wish. 



213 



VESUVIUS. 

We did Vesuvius and Pompeii to-day. The 
agent who sold the tickets rather demurred at 
permitting us to do both in one day, as it is cus- 
tomary to take a day for Vesuvius and a day for 
Pompeii. Jack told him that he was sorry we 
were breaking a custom, but as our time was 
very limited, we simply had to do them. The 
agent finally acquiesced. 

We went to Vesuvius under the care of Cook, 
who seems to be in charge of the volcano. On 
the way we passed Herculaneum, a city buried 
under mud from Vesuvius in the eruption that 
occurred in 79 a. d. Subsequent eruptions buried 
it deeper, so that for many centuries it was for- 
gotten. Owing to the fact that the mud on cool- 
ing hardened into stone, it has been found too 
difficult and too expensive to quarry to any great 
extent this buried city. 

Some art treasures have been discovered, and 
when the Italian Government begins in earnest 
to uncover Herculaneum, many more artistic 
things no doubt will be unearthed — a Venus or 
an Apollo, the beauty of which perhaps will 
electrify the world. 

214 



VESUVIUS 



We made our ascent by a funicular railway, 
and we could see the streams of earth and lava 
which had been carried down the sides of the 
mountain in several different eruptions. Half 
way up there was a restaurant, and as the 
weather looked rather threatening, Mrs. Lawlor 
concluded not to go any further, so Alice re- 
mained with her while I pushed on with Jack. 

When we came to the end of the railway, a 
number of guides, who looked like brigands, were 
awaiting us, and we mounted little ponies for the 
ascent to the crater of the volcano. We had not 
travelled very far when it began to rain, but still 
we pushed ahead, anxious to reach the cone. 
We had gone a considerable distance when sud- 
denly the rain came down in torrents and the 
smoke from the volcano enveloped us. It be- 
came as black as night and I really was fright- 
ened. The smoke was so thick and disagreeable 
that I thought another eruption was about to 
begin. You may be sure I said my prayers, and 
oh, how I wished I could have sent a wireless to 
Alice to say one for me! All the terrible pic- 
tures I had seen of Vesuvius covered with fiery 
lava came back to me. The guides themselves 
seemed disturbed and quickly turned our ponies' 
heads to make the descent of the mountain. The 
scene was the wildest I have ever witnessed. 

215 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

After we had gone down some distance, the 
guides brought us into a little shelter where we 
rested until the rain subsided. Even there, the 
lava of the volcano was hot to the hand. 

We were sorry that we were unable to reach 
the cone and get a view of the crater, but I can 
assure you I was very glad to get back to the 
restaurant, for I was cold, wet and frightened. 
While we were at lunch we talked over our ex- 
perience on the mountain. Jack discovered in 
his pockets that he had six pennies buried in 
separate pieces of hardened lava. I found that 
I had bought two. The guides place the pennies 
in the lava, which hardens about them. They 
sell them for a franc each. Quite a lucrative 
business, isn't it? Jack says he was so worried 
about me that he just remembers being pestered 
every little while by his guide to buy one of these 
volcanic souvenirs, and that automatically he 
handed out the six francs. He had a good laugh 
at himself. He says these guides would make 
fine "short change" artists. 

The storm cleared away quickly and the sun 
came out warm, which I found pleasant after the 
drenching I got. As soon as we finished lunch 
we started for Pompeii. On the way we passed 
through Torre del Greco, which has suffered 
more from Vesuvius than any other town. After 

216 



VESUVIUS 



an eruption those who escape begin immediately 
the work of reconstruction. Very optimistic, 
isn't it? Vesuvius in a way is a good friend. 
The ground is more easily cultivated after an 
overflow, and this is an incentive to the natives 
to start again. On account of all that Torre del 
Greco has suffered, there is an old jest which 
says "Naples commits the sins and Torre del 
Greco pays up for them." 

The next town is Torre Annunziata, which 
is famous for the excellent quality of its mac- 
aroni. In fact macaroni hanging out to dry 
is visible all along the line once you leave 
Naples. 

There was a guide on board the train, and 
Jack accepted his services through Pompeii, the 
city of the dead. I had purchased in Rome a 
Tauchnitz edition of Bulwer-Lytton's "Last 
Days of Pompeii," and had a chance to glance 
through it. Pompeii was utterly destroyed in 
79 a. d. The most graphic description written 
of the destruction of Pompeii is that by Pliny, 
jr., who you may remember was a citizen of 
Como. It is in the form of a letter to Tacitus, 
the historian, and is very interesting reading. 
Pliny, the elder, who was in command of a fleet, 
rushed his vessels to the relief of Pompeii and 
met his death there. His nephew afterwards de- 

217. 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



scribed to Tacitus what he saw and what he 
heard from others of this fatal eruption. 

The very existence of Pompeii was unknown 
for many centuries. That seems strange, doesn't 
it? It is now pretty well excavated. We were 
the only ones walking through this strange city 
this afternoon, and it certainly was a solemn ex- 
perience. 

At the corner of the streets there are large 
stones on which to step from one side to the 
other. There are deep ruts between the stones, 
possibly made by the wheels of chariots. The 
stepping stones allowed Pompeians on rainy 
days to cross the streets without getting their 
sandals wet. 

The first place we visited was the museum, 
which is a gruesome sight, as it contains the 
forms of bodies that had been covered with ashes 
or mud during the eruption. 

The house of the Vetti is very pretty. The 
original paintings and other decorations have 
not been carried off to the museum at Naples, 
but have been left here. In front of it there 
is a garden, which is an imitation of a Pom- 
peian garden before the destruction of the 
city. 

On the walls of the house are painted a num- 
ber of busy little cupids engaged in different 

218 



VESUVIUS 



kinds of work. They made me think of Keats' 
"Ode on a Grecian Urn." 

The house of Pansa and the house of the Faun 
are two more I remember. Pansa is one of Bul- 
wer-Lytton's characters. The house of the 
Tragic Poet also figures in the "Last Days of 
Pompeii" as the house in which Glaucus lived. 
Once when I was in Saratoga, I visited an imi- 
tation of a Pompeian house which was on exhibi- 
tion there. It gave one an excellent idea of 
what houses at Pompeii looked like before the 
city was destroyed. 

We caught a glimpse of an amphitheatre, but 
as it was some distance away, we did not visit it. 
We saw many ruins of theatres, temples and 
baths. 

The Street of the Tombs is silent and beauti- 
ful. From one of the tombs Bulwer-Lytton cop- 
ied the names which he used in the "Last Days of 
Pompeii." 

In the cellar of the Villa of Diomedes near the 
city of the Tombs, there were found eighteen 
bodies of men, women and children who sought 
shelter there, but who were finally suffocated. It 
is a sad story — the last days of Pompeii. 

The ruins of this buried city have not the 
grandeur of the ruins of the Forum, as Pompeii 
was only a provincial town and not to be com- 

219 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

pared to Rome. It is most interesting, however, 
to walk through the streets of this silent city 
where so much has been preserved to us after the 
lapse of so many centuries. 

We got back to Naples rather tired. We had 
practically done two days' work, but I could not 
bear the thought of missing either Vesuvius or 
Pompeii. This evening we rested ourselves by 
listening to a military band in one of the public 
squares which was crowded with people. 



220 



BLUE GROTTO. 

We are back again in the Eternal City. Yes- 
terday was one of the loveliest days we have had. 
We took a trip to the Blue Grotto, on the Island 
of Capri, near Naples. We got on board a boat 
at the wharf of Santa Lucia. Do you remember 
the boatman's pretty song in honor of St. Lucy? 
Before the boat started we were interested in 
watching boys dive for money thrown into the 
water by Jack and a number of other men. 
Those boys certainly were amphibious creatures. 
Our boat was rather a small one. There were a 
number of Italian officers on board, and while 
they may have been good soldiers they were poor 
sailors. We had not gone very far out on the 
beautiful Bay of Naples before they all sur- 
rendered to that unconquerable enemy, mat de 
mer. An army officer sea-sick is a sad sight ; one 
hardly expects it. I was not sea-sick, but there 
have been times in my life when I felt better. 
The band of musicians made the time pass pleas- 
antly, playing "Addio Napoli," "Carmela" and 
other Italian airs. 

From the deck of the vessel we caught a new 
view of the busy City of Naples. We sailed by 

221 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



Vesuvius and made our first landing at Castel- 
lammare, which is built over an old city called 
Stabia, which was destroyed at the same time as 
Pompeii. It is quite a resort for trippers. Our 
next landing was at Sorrento, another pretty 
spot. Here Torquato Tasso, the author of 
"Jerusalem Delivered," was born. Marion 
Crawford's villa was pointed out to us. 

We met a Frenchman on board, who spoke 
English very well. He was steeped in ancient 
lore and pointed out many things which I would 
not have otherwise known. 

Across the Bay of Naples is Pozzuoli. In old- 
en days it was called Puteoli. Alice was deeply 
interested in this town, when she discovered that 
St. Paul arrived there in the ship Castor and 
Pollux. This incident in the life of the great 
Apostle of the Gentiles is narrated in the last 
chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. Old iEneas, 
too, sailed up this way, consulted the sibyl who 
dwelt at Cumse, and buried his trumpeter at 
Cape Miseno, as you may read in the iEneid. 
Nearby is Lake Avernus. In ancient times it 
was believed that no bird could live near this lake, 
from which fact it gets its name. Homer and 
Virgil wrote of it as the entrance to the infernal 
regions. We saw the Islands of Nisida, Procida 
and Ischia. 

222 



BLUE GROTTO 



When we came to the Isle of Capri, the sea 
was rather rough and choppy. For a time the 
captain of the vessel thought that it would not 
be safe for us to embark in the small boats. He 
changed his mind, however, and we went. Be- 
fore entering the cave, we were compelled to lie 
down in the boat as the entrance to the grotto is 
only three feet high, so it is a rather novel and 
exciting experience. The rower gives a final pull 
with the oars and then throws them into the boat, 
grasping at the same time a chain by which he 
pulls the boat into the grotto. The rower of my 
boat nearly knocked my eye out in throwing in 
one of his oars. When I arose from the depths of 
the boat I beheld the most ethereal sight I had 
ever seen. There is no blue in the world like the 
blue of the Grotto Azzurra. This grotto is over 
one hundred feet in length and ninety-eight feet 
in width. It has a marvelous beauty of coloring 
such as one might suppose the vestibule of 
heaven would have. This is caused, I believe, by 
the reflection of the sunlight coming through the 
narrow entrance. A poet might catch its love- 
liness, but to describe it is beyond the power of 
my pen. 

We were the last ones to leave the grotto. 
Those ahead of us had a very hard time in get- 
ting out as the sea was growing rougher every 

223 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

moment. I wondered why our boatman insisted 
upon keeping our boat in the grotto until the 
others had made their way out in safety. I dis- 
covered afterwards that he was the captain of 
the fleet, and therefore wished to see the others 
out of the grotto before he left it himself. We 
got our reward for this delay, as a boy appeared 
just before we left and plunged into the water. 
He was a wonderful silvery sight as he swam 
around and scattered the strange blue water 
about him. We dipped our hands in the magic 
water and threw it about, delighted at the sight 
of it. 

It is a difficult thing to get out of the grotto, 
for if an incoming wave should happen to strike 
the boat, there is great danger of being upset. 
The party ahead of us had a very hard time, 
which rather worried me, but whether it was due 
to luck or to the fact that we were in the care 
of the captain, our boat breasted the angry tide 
without the slightest difficulty. 

After leaving the grotto, we were conducted 
to the little town of Capri, where we took lunch 
on the veranda of a hotel. Several women with 
strings of coral came to show their wares, and 
one of them handed me a coral necklace, the price 
of which was six dollars. I offered her three and 
she took it. Outside of a few of the larger stores, 

224 



BLUE GROTTO 



there is no "fixed price" in Naples and the sur- 
rounding country. 

After lunch, we drove up to Anacapri, a high 
hill above the town. On the way we passed a 
statue of a Madonna which our driver piously 
saluted. I was surprised to see Greek letters 
over the shops. The views on the way to Ana- 
capri were glorious. Behind Anacapri is Monte 
Solaro, the highest point on the island. 

We did not get a chance to visit the Villa Ti- 
berius. It is here that the Roman Emperor 
came for his vacations, and he is well remem- 
bered through all these centuries as a cruel 
tyrant. 

We had arranged to catch the six o'clock train 
from Naples to Rome, and our steamer was late 
in getting back to its wharf at Santa Lucia. I 
will never forget that ride through the City of 
the Sirens. We told our driver what we wished 
to do, and he said that he would make the train 
if possible. We jumped into his carriage and his 
old nag started. I never was able to get as much 
humor out of "John Gilpin's Ride," as others, 
but I think I appreciate it better now. We had 
to stop at our hotel to get our valises. The 
porters were ready for us, expecting that we 
surely would miss the train. Jack quickly 
crossed their hands with silver, the valises were 

225 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

a frlT— — MMMIiltlHIHWM ■ '|WW HIM|<IH III 'I I I ■ tt gggs™ I Ili l M l i l l J i ll Mil BMffil 

thrown into the carriage, and away we went at 
breakneck speed. The old steed acquitted him- 
self gloriously and we made the train. Jack was 
the last one to jump into the compartment, the 
trainman locked the door, and the train imme- 
diately pulled out from the station. When Mrs. 
Lawlor got her breath, she turned to her son and 
asked, "Didn't you propose that I come to Eu- 
rope for quiet and rest?" We had a good laugh. 
We did not attempt to do any sightseeing this 
morning in the Eternal City, as we are leaving 
for Pisa after lunch. Do you remember in one 
of my letters the reference to the belief that 
those who throw a penny in the fountain of Trevi 
will return to Rome? It was after I had thrown 
the penny in the fountain that we decided to go 
to Naples, so the penny did its work sooner than 
I expected. 



226 



PISA. 

I spend almost all the time on the train read- 
ing guide-books and gathering every bit of in- 
formation I can before we invade a new town. 
Mrs. Lawlor marvels at my indefatigability, and 
Alice and Jack listen to me with great amuse- 
ment as I read aloud. 

We ought to have known better than to put 
up at a hotel so near the railway station, but that 
is what we did. We arrived here in Pisa last 
evening, and, being rather tired, we went to the 
nearest hotel, but we did not hit it off very well. 
Stale bread and sour tea were all that were 
served to us hungry ones. I thought of Shen- 
stone's lines: 

"Who'er has travelled life's dull round, 
Where 'er his stages may have been, 
May sigh to think he still has found 
The warmest welcome at an inn." 

I have often had this verse verified, but not 
on the occasion of our coming to Pisa. You 
really get a warm welcome when you arrive at 
the hotels over here. When the stage rolls up 

227 



MARGARETS TRAVELS 

to the door, the manager of the hotel appears 
and conducts you into his hostelry with many 
bows and much attention, but it was not so in 
Pisa ; nobody seemed to bother their heads about 
us. After we had partaken of our hearty supper 
we retired — but not to sleep. There must have 
been a hundred locomotives in front of the Pisan 
station. That seems like an exaggeration. Well, 
if there weren't a hundred, there was, at least, 
one, and it kept up a continuous chortling and 
snorting. Once or twice during the night there 
was a lull, and I thought quiet would ensue, but, 
in a little while, a belching sound would break 
out again, which gave proof through the night 
that the train was still there. 

Pisa is an ancient-looking place. It was a 
great commercial seaport town centuries ago, 
but its commercial glory has departed. The 
River Arno flows through it as it does through 
Florence. The sea filled up the mouth of the 
river with debris, and now the city is about four 
miles from the Mediterranean. Niccola Pisano, 
one of the great artists who wrought before the 
Renaissance, takes his name from this old town, 
as does a pupil of his, Andrea Pisano, who made 
one of the beautiful baptistery doors at Florence. 

A guide offered himself to us at the hotel, and 
we accepted him. We drove through the town, 

228 



PISA 

passing by a market place which was alive with 
people bargaining with many gesticulations. 

The Duomo, Baptistery, the Leaning Tower 
and the Campo Santo form a most beautiful 
group, and are situated just outside the city. 
A lawn surrounds them, and I believe this is the 
only instance in Italy where a carpet of grass 
encircles a cathedral. When the Duomo is 
bathed in sunshine, as we saw it, the effect is 
lovely. 

You have often seen pictures of the marble 
campanile or Leaning Tower, as it is called. It 
is one hundred and seventy-nine feet high and 
fifty-one feet in diameter. Its form is cylindri- 
cal and its massive base supports six open ar- 
cades. It leans from the base to its summit about 
fourteen feet. No one seems to know with any 
degree of certainty how this came about, but it 
is thought that it sank while it was being built, 
and that from the third story upwards an in- 
cline was given to it. I have bought you a very 
pretty miniature of it in alabaster. It was from 
the summit of this tower that Galileo demon- 
strated that all falling bodies, great and small, 
descend with equal velocity to the earth. 

The marble cathedral with its richly decor- 
ated facade and its arches is splendid. It is in 
the form of a Latin cross. In the dome there is 

229 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

a large mosaic depicting our Saviour together 
with the Blessed Virgin and St. John the Evan- 
gelist, which our guide told us was the work of 
Cimabue. Somehow or other, I have taken a 
great liking to Cimabue. He seems to have been 
the one who first began to do beautiful things, 
and thus he was the forerunner of the Renais- 
sance. On the sides of the high altar are paint- 
ings by Andrea del Sarto. Another picture, 
"The Taking Down from the Cross," by So- 
doma, was carried away by Napoleon, but it was 
afterwards restored to the Pisans. In the sac- 
risty there is a small ivory statue of the Blessed 
Virgin and the Infant Saviour, by Giovanni Pi- 
sano, which is considered very beautiful. The in- 
terior of the cathedral is spacious and majestic, 
and filled with many old columns taken from 
other buildings. Our guide called our attention 
to the fact that several of the columns leaned as 
the tower does. Jack says he thinks that Pisa is 
a hard town in which to keep straight. He bases 
his opinion on the fact of the leaning tower and 
the condition of our guide. 

A bronze lamp hanging from the ceiling of the 
cathedral gave Galileo, so our guide informed us, 
his first idea of the pendulum. 

The baptistery, which is circular in shape, sup- 
ports a dome said to be the most elegant in Italy. 

230 



PISA 

Its two greatest treasures are a large marble 
font and an elaborately ornamented pulpit, the 
work of Niccola Pisano. 

The baptistery has a wonderful echo. Our 
guide, who was just the funniest little man I 
have ever met, broke out into a song without giv- 
ing us previous warning, in order that we might 
hear the echo. He was standing next to me at 
the time, and it made me jump. I was surprised 
to find that he had such a good voice. Jack 
thinks he is about the most amusing thing that 
we have hit upon since we left home. 

The Campo Santo is a very ancient burial- 
ground. Many shiploads of earth were brought 
to it from Mt. Calvary, and the cloisters which 
surround it are adorned with sculptures and 
paintings by renowned artists. The salt air of 
Pisa dimmed the frescoes, and they have been 
restored a number of times. Three chapels ad- 
join the cloisters. The frescoes on the walls de- 
pict scenes from the Old Testament, and some 
of them are rather crude. Those by Benozzo 
Gozzoli however are held in high repute. The 
most striking fresco is the "Triumph of Death," 
in which a gay party on horseback suddenly 
comes upon three dead bodies lying in their cof- 
fins. Quite an eloquent sermon, isn't it? The 
Campo Santo also contains a number of ancient 

231 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



sculptures and Etruscan and Roman sar- 
cophagi. 

We did not get a chance to visit any of the 
other churches in Pisa, as we had to leave on the 
afternoon train. 

When we returned to the hotel, there was a 
quarrel on between two carriage drivers, and the 
whole square was in an uproar. I never heard 
so much noise. I was afraid that a murder 
would be committed, but nothing happened. 

We go from here to Genoa. 



232 



"LA SUPERBA." 

We arrived here last evening about seven 
o'clock. On the way we passed Carrara, famous 
for its marble, and had a glimpse of the quarries 
on the hillside. 

Genoa, "The Superb," is an up-to-date and 
fine appearing town. It is the chief seaport of 
Italy, and was formerly ruled by a Doge, the 
same as Venice. 

Near the railroad station there is a large statue 
of Christopher Columbus, who was born near 
Genoa. 

Jack picked out the Hotel Bristol, which is 
one of the finest hotels we have stopped at in 
Europe. We had dinner al fresco, dining on 
a balcony. The food was excellent, and, as we 
were all very hungry, we thoroughly enjoyed the 
meal. 

After dinner Jack procured a carriage and 
we drove around the city until we came to a 
bridge over a viaduct, when it suddenly grew so 
dark and lonesome that we immediately turned 

back. 

To-day being Sunday we attended Mass at 
233 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



the Cathedral of San Lorenzo. This is an old 
church dating back to the beginning of the 
twelfth century, but it has been restored and 
changed many times. The facade is of white 
and black bands of marble. 

After mass the sacristan showed us the beau- 
tiful chapel of St. John the Baptist. Under the 
altar there is a sarcophagus containing, it is said, 
some relics of the saint. We would have liked 
to look further, but, as it was near train time, 
we had to hurry away. 

We did not have a chance to visit the Campo 
Santo, which is notable for its marble sculp- 
tures, the work of modern artists, where human 
grief is depicted in stone more vividly than in 
any other burial-ground in the world. 

Genoa is famous for its palaces, of which there 
are many still remaining that were built in the 
days when the old aristocracy ruled the city. Of 
course, they are put to other uses at the present 
time. 

We are about to leave here for Nice. 



234 



THE RIVIERA. 

We arrived at this lovely paradise yester- 
day evening about six o'clock. The French 
Riviera is called "La Cote d'Azur," and well de- 
serves the compliment. 

The railroad from Genoa to Nice pierces the 
mountains, so there are innumerable tunnels all 
the way. In some parts there are openings, and, 
as the train flashes by, you can just catch a 
glimpse of the sea, and like Oliver Twist, you 
long for more. We were compelled to get off 
the train at Ventimiglia, the town that divides 
Italy and France, and, of course, there was a 
customhouse. The French custom-house inspec- 
tors examined our baggage quite thoroughly, 
and I had to pay duty on a number of rosaries 
that I had bought in Rome. The manners of 
these officers were disagreeable. 

We passed the time waiting for the train to 
Nice drinking tea in front of a little hotel. 

West of Genoa the Riviera di Ponente begins. 
We came through San Remo, which is the largest 
town along the Italian Riviera, and supplies St. 
Peter's in Rome with palm for Palm Sunday. 

235 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 



At Bordighera I noticed a convent, and the nuns 
were sitting out on a terrace. I thought how 
lovely life must be for them in such a peaceful 
spot, instead of being shut up in a small house 
in a crowded city. I advised Alice to look up 
the Community. We caught views of Mentone, 
Monte Carlo and Monaco on the way. 

We are stopping at the Hotel de Luxem- 
bourg. After dinner we took a walk along the 
famous Promenade des Anglais. Near the hotel, 
in a public park, a band was playing and a crowd 
of well-dressed and prosperous-looking people 
were enjoying the music. It is impossible for 
me to describe to you the loveliness of this place. 
Jack was chatting with a young Frenchman last 
evening who said that if the Riviera had a de- 
fect, it was that it was too brilliant. Quite a par- 
donable defect! I shall never forget the charm 
of my first evening along the Promenade. 

There is a tradition which says that Eve 
plucked a lemon from a tree in paradise and 
brought it with her into the outer world; sub- 
sequently she dropped it along the Riviera, and 
so this charming place possesses one thing that 
came from paradise. I don't believe in this tra- 
dition. I am sure neither Eve nor anybody else 
has ever handed the Riviera a lemon. 

This morning after a good night's rest, I rose 
236 



THE RIVIERA 



early and opening out the French windows of 
my room, beheld the Mediterranean, which was 
as quiet as a lake. Though it was not quite seven 
o'clock, there were half a dozen people in bath- 
ing. In the distance could be seen the Island 
of Corsica on which Napoleon was born. I don't 
say that I saw it, but my guide-book tells me 
that it is visible in the distance on a clear day, 
and, just think, across the Mediterranean is Af- 
rica. How I would like to stay here for a few 
weeks! I know I have made that same remark 
about other places at which we have stopped, but 
still I cannot help repeating it here. 

After breakfast Jack engaged an automobile 
to take us for a drive on the famous Corniche 
Road, which was constructed under Napoleon I. 
I have had some pleasant drives in my day, but 
nothing that ever compared in grandeur and 
beauty with this one. 

The road from Nice ascends the foothills of 
the Maritime Alps, a combination of mountains 
and sea which is glorious. The chauffeur, who 
spoke good English, pointed out to us a stretch 
of land projecting into the water called St. Jean, 
which was founded by the Knights of St. John, 
who established themselves there. Afterwards 
Beaulieu and then Sur-Mer, two of the resorts 
of the Riviera, were visible. Another picturesque 

237 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

— ■■■w— i— — ■ ■■■— ——^^m ii wiiiBii ■mi — —— — 

place is La Turbie, on the mountain side, from 
which there is a railroad to Monte Carlo. Some 
distance beyond La Turbie our automobile broke 
down. The chauffeur got out and tried to fix 
it, but did not succeed. As the rest of the road 
was down hill, he let the machine go its own way. 
I thought that seemed rather reckless and my 
heart was in my mouth several times, as we 
swung round corners and came suddenly upon 
peasants who were walking up the hill. We con- 
tinued down until we landed at Mentone. Our 
chauffeur said he would have to find a repair 
shop, and that it would take at least an hour to 
fix the machine. This suited us. Having had 
a bath in the Adriatic, I was anxious to have one 
in the Mediterranean. We found a bathing es- 
tablishment nearby. The water was most de- 
lightful, but the beach was rather rocky. After 
we finished our bath, the chauffeur was waiting 
for us, and we started back for Nice along the 
coast road, which is called the Petit Corniche. 
The views along this road were also charming. 
The warm sun shining on mountain and sea, to- 
gether with the white palaces along the hillsides, 
made a most brilliant picture. 

When we came to Monte Carlo, Jack pro- 
cured for himself and me tickets of admission to 
the famous Casino. Mrs. Lawlor and Alice con- 

238 



THE RIVIERA 



tented themselves with wandering around the 
grounds. We had to give our names and ad- 
dresses to the "Administration." This time of 
the year there are not many visitors, so the 
Casino was only operating three tables. The 
people who were playing did not impress me as 
being very wealthy. It was interesting to watch 
the croupiers pulling in the money with their 
long hooks. The "Administration" does not al- 
low the inhabitants of Monaco to gamble. It 
probably has enough trouble with visitors. 
Monte Carlo unfortunately is the scene of many 
suicides. Men who lose all they possess some- 
times go into the beautiful gardens and blow 
out their brains. 

After leaving the Casino we wandered through 
the gardens and along the terrace, and then, as 
we began to feel hungry after our dip in the 
Mediterranean, Jack thought it would be best 
for us to have our lunch at the pretty white Ho- 
tel de Paris, which is opposite the Casino. The 
choice was a good one, I can assure you. 

Monaco is a principality, separate from 
France, and is presided over by a prince who 
leases the Casino to what is called the "Adminis- 
tration." Monaco is a huge rock, boldly rising 
from the sea, and is crowned by the prince's 
castle. One would think that it would make an 

239 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

ideal fortress. It was at one time the home of 
pirates, and it looks the part. A more pictur- 
esque rock with the sea at its base I have never 
before seen. 

When we returned to the hotel, we all agreed 
that our motor ride brought us through the most 
beautiful country we had ever visited. 

We leave this afternoon for Marseilles. 



240 



MARSEILLES. 

We are stopping at the Grand Hotel du 
Louvre et de la Paix on the Rue Noailles, a con- 
tinuation of the famous Rue Cannebiere, which 
are two splendid streets. You have heard the old 
joke that if Paris had a Cannebiere, it would be 
a little Marseilles. I mentioned this to the clerk 
at the hotel last evening, but he said that no one 
in Marseilles had ever made such a remark. 

On the railroad yesterday afternoon, we 
passed through Cannes and Hyeres. Admir- 
able views are had all the way. Cannes is a 
pretty little town, not so large as Nice. It is 
famous for its yacht races. Hyeres is another 
Riviera resort, and has the distinction of having 
been the birthplace of Massillon, the great 
French preacher, and the residence for a time of 
Robert Louis Stevenson. Great red cliffs over- ' 
hanging the sea add to the picturesqueness of the 
many beautiful views. 

We took supper in the station at Toulon and 
arrived in Marseilles about ten o'clock. 

I am sorry that I cannot tell you more about 
this second city of France, the great town of the 

241 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

Midi. The famous song of the Marseillaise 
takes its name from a battalion, which left here 
and went to Paris during the French Revolution. 
It was intended as a war song, but in the attack 
on the Tuileries during the Revolution, this bat- 
talion sang the Marseillaise, and thus it became 
the national air of the Republic. 

After breakfast this morning we took a walk 
down the Rue Cannebiere to the harbor. About 
two miles out in the sea is the famous Chateau 
d'lf, which figures in "Monte Cristo." 

Several detachments of soldiers came down the 
Rue Cannebiere on their way to Africa. They 
seemed to be small men, not so rugged looking 
as those of our own regular army. Their cos- 
tumes are very picturesque in the paintings by 
Meissonier and Detaille, but in reality they did 
not appear so to me. Perhaps it is better to have 
small soldiers, for then the bullets can pass over 
their heads. We are leaving this morning on a 
thirteen-hour trip to Paris. ~No doubt we will 
be rather tired when we get there. 



242 



PARIS. 

We arrived in Paris last night at eleven 
o'clock on the Paris, Lyons and Mediterranean 
Express. What a fine-sounding title for a train! 
It reads like the beginning of a detective story. 
We had not wired ahead for rooms, and the hotel 
was so crowded that they had to put up beds for 
us in small parlors. 

It was a pity that one had to be whirled so 
rapidly through old Provence with its many in- 
teresting towns. Here the troubadours sang and 
chivalry was born, and long before these, the 
Greeks, Romans and Phoenicians built amphi- 
theatres and aqueducts, some of which still re- 
main. It is the land of the mistral, that great 
wind which comes down from the mountains. 
Isn't it strange that the name of the most famous 
of Provencal poets is also Mistral? Have you 
read his "Mireio?" It is the great poem of the 
Midi. Aries, Tarascon, Beaucaire, Orange and 
Avignon. Haven't these cities of the Rhone a 
musical ring like the sound of a great amen? It 
would have been fine to have gone through these 
towns in a motor. 

In Aries there is a wonderful old Roman am- 
243 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

phitheatre and the ruins of a Roman theatre. 
Tarascon, to which we next came, was the home 
of Tartarin, made famous by Alphonse Daudet. 
It has a castle in which King Rene, the good, the 
Count of Provence, once resided. Across the 
Rhone, opposite Tarascon, is Beaucaire, which 
was the scene of that beautiful mediaeval, though 
somewhat irreligious, romance called "Aucassin 
and Nicolette." I first became acquainted 
with it in Andrew Lang's translation which 
was published by Mr. Mosher up in Portland, 
Maine. Is it not strange through what de- 
vious ways culture comes? I believe that 
Robert Browning said that some of the finest 
criticisms of his poems were sent to him from 
Chicago. Perhaps they were flattering? Avi- 
gnon, which is the next stop that is made after 
Tarascon, will always be famous for once having 
been the residence of the popes. The papal pal- 
ace is still in existence, though now it is used as 
a barracks. It was at Avignon that Petrarch 
caught his first glimpse of Laura. Orange 
boasts of a Roman theatre and a triumphal arch. 
The theatre is still in good condition, and the 
seats have been restored. The players from the 
Comedie Francaise perform in this open-air 
theatre in the summer. 

All I could do as the train passed rapidly on 
244 



PARIS 

was to wave my hand out of the win3ow with a 
good-by to Provence, where the farandole is 
danced, where the sun shines so warmly, and 
where laughter and music are in the air. 



245 



VERSAILLES. 

We have been back two days in Paris. Yes- 
terday we gave over to shopping. I was buying 
a few souvenirs in a jewelry store in the Rue de 
la Paix and got chatting with one of the clerks. 
We have all been in this particular shop several 
times, so he knows us. In the course of conver- 
sation he remarked that the lady's diamond ring 
that Mr. Lawlor bought this morning was very 
beautiful. Mrs. Lawlor had mentioned to me 
several times during the trip that her son was 
in love with a young woman. As she did not give 
me any further information, I did not make bold 
to inquire about her. I wish her great joy, be- 
cause she is going to get a splendid young man 
for her partner through life. 

We spent to-day at Versailles viewing the pal- 
ace of Louis XIV. We arrived there about 
mid-day and had lunch in the town. After lunch 
we made our way to the palace, which is consid- 
ered to be the most beautiful one in Europe. 
Louis XIV established his court here. It was 
originally a hunting chateau built by Louis 
XIII. "Le Grand Roi" desired to have the 

246 



W 



VERSAILLES 

most beautiful dwelling and surroundings in the 
world, and he succeeded. 

A guide took us in charge after we entered the 
gateway and showed us through the palace. It 
is now, as you know, a national museum. It is 
full of noteworthy things, but I can only de- 
scribe to you a few that I remember. 

The Galerie des Glaces is perhaps the most 
wonderful room. It is two hundred and thirty- 
five feet long, has seventeen large windows over- 
looking the charming gardens, and more than 
three hundred bevelled mirrors. When it was 
filled with the furniture of the time, and the soft 
light of the candles in the silver candelabra was 
reflected by the mirrors, and Louis XIV and his 
court were assembled there, it must have been 
a dazzling sight. Its vaulted roof is the largest 
painted surface in France, and is the work of 
Le Brun, Louis XIV's great painter. 

From the balcony of the Galerie des Glaces, 
Pope Pius VII gave papal benediction in Jan- 
uary, 1804, and it was in this gallery that the 
King of Prussia was crowned Emperor of Ger- 
many in January, 1871. 

Jack was interested in the room of Diana, 
which was the billiard room of Louis XIV. 
Jack is very fond of billiards, and was pleased 
when he found out that "Le Grand Monarque" 

247 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

was a good player. There are rooms dedicated 
to Venus, Mars, Mercury and Apollo. Then 
there is a room of wigs, as it was the custom of 
Louis XIV to change his headdress several times 
a day. 

The bedchamber of Louis XIV contains the 
bed in which he died in 1715, after a reign of 
seventy-two years. Louis XVI and Marie An- 
toinette had to appear on the balcony outside 
of this room and promise the Parisian mob that 
they would for the future live at the Tuileries. 

We were conducted into a room called the 
"Bull's Eye," on account of an oval window near 
its entrance. 

The rooms of Marie Antoinette, which had 
been formerly those of Marie Leczinska, the wife 
of Louis XV, interested me very much. There 
is an absurd story connected with one of these 
rooms, which says that Marie Antoinette was 
horrified when she came into it and saw herself 
reflected without a head in a mirror. I have al- 
ways been deeply interested in this unfortunate 
queen. I remember, when I was a little girl, 
seeing a play which portrayed the separation of 
Marie Antoinette from her children. I recollect 
that the scene made a deep impression upon me, 
and I think her violent death is one of the sad- 
dest things in French history. 

248 



VERSAILLES 



The apartment of Madame de Maintenon, 
wife of Louis XIV, is where the ladies of St. Cyr 
played Racine's "Esther" and "Athalie." 

Another splendid room is the "Gallery of Bat- 
tles." This is a magnificent hall nearly four 
hundred feet in length built by Louis Philippe, 
and contains pictures of famous French battles. 

We visited the chapel, which, my guide-book 
tells me, is a masterpiece of the pompous style 
of the period. It was begun by Mansart, who 
was the great architect of Louis XIV. 

Besides the apartments of the palace, there is 
a museum consecrated "To all the glories of 
France." 

Mrs. Lawlor is very much amused with me 
when we are going through such places as Ver- 
sailles. I always get at the head of the proces- 
sion of sight-seers, and I suppose I appear so 
interested that invariably the guide gives me all 
his attention and addresses his remarks especially 
to me. I often feel foolish at times, because he 
rattles off French so rapidly that it is only when 
he uses such familiar words as "Louis Quatorze" 
or "Marie Antoinette," that I really know where 
I am at. It does not require much knowledge 
of French to understand the guide when he con- 
ducts you to a room and tells you that it is the 
"Appartement de la Reine Marie Antoinette." 

249 



MARGARET'S TRAVELS 

■i^ ^ — ■— — — ■—— 

After viewing the palace we went out into the 
gardens. They are a dream. This may not be 
a very specific description of them, but it fits my 
mood. They are the work of Le Notre, the 
most famous of all gardeners, and are filled with 
beautiful fountains, which unfortunately, did 
not play while we were there. 

At the foot of the stairs leading from the pal- 
ace is the Latona Basin, and beyond it is the 
Lawn, the Apollo Basin and Grand Canal. I 
don't believe I have ever seen such an abundance 
of beautiful flowers. Louis XIV had one hun- 
dred sculptors at work in these gardens, so that 
at every turn you make, you come upon statues 
in marble, bronze and gilded lead. The Grand 
Canal, cruciform in shape, is a mile in length, 
so you see everything was laid out in generous 
proportions. 

The Grand Trianon, as it is called, which ad- 
joins the gardens, was built by Louis XIV on 
the site of the little village of Trianon, from 
which it takes its name. 

The Petit Trianon is more famous as it is so 
closely associated with the memory of Marie An- 
toinette, who spent a great deal of her time there 
living a country life. There are a number of 
rustic houses called the Hamlet. In the dairy 
the queen used to make butter with her own 

250 



VERSAILLES 



hands. It is because of the calumnious stories 
of her life here that the French populace became 
enraged, and shortly afterwards the Revolution 
broke out. 

Surely the gardens of Versailles must have 
been wonderful under the regime of the French 
kings, who were so fond of amusing themselves. 
Moonlight nights here must have been enchant- 
ing. Gondolas with dukes and duchesses passing 
to and fro on the Grand Canal, the air filled with 
soft music, the fountains splashing and the "le 
Grand Monarque" looking down upon it all, 
must indeed have been an unusually splendid 
sight. 



251 



AU REVOIR. 

We are on board the tender at Cherbourg 
waiting for the American liner, St. Louis, from 
Southampton to take us back home. I am so 
excited that I can scarcely write. The greatest 
event of my whole life has happened ! As I have 
always made you my confidant, I will try as 
best I can to tell you the very surprising thing 
that occurred a few moments ago. Jack and I 
had wandered to the bow of the tender, and we 
were chatting about the pleasant trip we had 
through Europe. He said he had enjoyed 
every moment of it, and he hoped the friend- 
ship which had sprung up would remain un- 
broken for all time. I assured him heartily that 
I felt the same way. I was a little surprised by 
the ardor and excitement of his manner, and, 
after an awkward pause, he produced the dia- 
mond ring he had bought in Paris, and asked 
me if I would not accept it as a souvenir of the 
trip. Of course I told him, as soon as I could 
catch my breath, that I could not think of ac- 
cepting such a valuable present, as he had been 
throughout the entire journey most generous to 

252 



AU REVOIR 



Alice and me, and that I could never repay him 
for all his kindness. He hesitated a moment, 
and then said, "Really, I don't mean to offer you 
the ring as a souvenir of the trip, but merely as 
an excuse to tell you that I love you." I turned 
and looked at him in great surprise, thinking that 
he was joking, but there was such a serious look 
in his eyes that I became terribly frightened. 
"Why, Mr. Lawlor!" I exclaimed. Just then, 
his mother and Alice came along and changed 
the current of our conversation. This was a 
blessing, as I did not know what answer to make. 
Of course I feel greatly flattered, for I do think 
that Jack is the finest young man I have ever 
met. 

I will write you again about this important 
matter. 



253 



HOME AGAIN. 

You must forgive me for not writing sooner, 
but really, things have happened so rapidly that 
I did not have an opportunity to do so. I meant 
to have written you on the steamer, but I con- 
cluded that I had better wait until I was settled 
at home before sending you a letter. 

On the third ringer of my left hand I 'am wear- 
ing a diamond ring. Isn't it funny the way 
things turn out? Of course I am very happy. 
Alice is, too. Mrs. Lawlor gave my father a 
very serious talk on the wrong of interfering 
with a girl's religious vocation. She told him 
that she had many conversations with Alice, and 
believed that she would be happy only in a con- 
vent. Finding everybody against him, he has at 
last withdrawn his objection. 

As you usually come to New York in the fall, 
I look forward with more interest than ever to 
your visit. I expect you to be my bridesmaid. 
Let me know when I may expect you. 

THE END 

254 



DEC SI 1912 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



020 657 418 5 



